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FRANCIS & CO. 'S 

CABINET LIBRAE I 

OF 

CHOICE PROSE AND POETRY. 

MADAME' DE STAEL 

AND 

MADAME ROLAND. 




M M o IK !LA. BAELOI^nE IDE BT^AEXi^MOlLiSTJEIF 



M E M 1 R S 



MADAME D E STAEL, 



MADAME ROLAND. 



BY uy S* 

L. MARIA CHILD, 

Sfc 
AUTHOR OF 'PHII.OTHEA,' ' THE MOTHER'S BOOK,' 'BIOGRAPHIES OF 
GOOD WIVES,' 'F.ACT AND FICTION,' ' LETTERS FROM N. YORK,' ETC. 



A NEW EDITION, 

REVISED AND ENLARGED 



Mm ^nrk mti fmhn : 

C. S. FRANCIS AND COMPANY. 

1854. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, 
BY C. S. FRANCIS & CO. 
in the Clerk's office of the District Court for the Southern District of New- York 



TOMBUBfcAftTj 
jOF C ONGR ESS 

WASHINGTON 



.-o. 



GEORGE TICK NOR, Esa. 

ST Ms t/clunu 



SESTECTFTILLY AND GRATEFULLY 
INSCRIBED, BY 

THE EDIT OB 



MADAME DE STAEL 



II me semble voir en elle une de ces belles Grecques, qui enchantaient et 
BUbjugaient le monde. Elle a plus de talents encore que d'amour propre ; mais 
des talents si rares doivent n6cessairement exciter le d£sir de lee developper ; 
et je ne sais pas quel theatre peut suffire a cetre activite d'imagination, a carac- 
te>e ardent enfin qui se fait sentir dans toutes ses paroles. Corinne. 



In a gallery of celebrated women, the first place un- 
questionably belongs to Anne Maria Louise Germaine 
Necker, Baroness de Stael Holstein. 

She was the only child of James Necker, the famous 
financier, (a long time the popular idol in France), and 
of Susanna Curchod, the daughter of a poor Swiss cler- 
gyman, who in the sequestered village of Crassy be- 
stowed upon her as thorough an education as fell to the 
lot of any woman in Europe. 

Gibbon, the historian, visited the father of Mademoi- 
selle Curchod, and became a captive to her charms. 
He tells the story in his own Memoirs, where he in- 
forms us, that ' she was learned without pedantry, lively 
in conversation, pure in sentiment, and elegant in man- 
ners : her wit and beauty were the theme of universal 
applause.' 



8 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Gibbon prospered in his suit ; but such an obscure 
connexion was not agreeable to his father, who threat- 
ened to disinherit him if he persisted in it. He obeyed 
the parental command, like a dutiful son and a very- 
philosophical lover ; and the young lady, on her part, 
seems to have borne the separation with becoming resig- 
nation and cheerfulness. 

After her father's death, Mademoiselle Curchod taught 
a school in Geneva ; where she became acquainted with 
M. Necker, the gentleman whom she afterwards marri- 
ed. He was a native of Geneva, and at that time a 
banker in Paris. The large fortune, which he after- 
wards acquired, had its origin in the following circum- 
stances. The Old East India Company, consisting 
principally of nobility, were ignorant of business, and 
trusted everything to the abilities and discretion of M. 
Necker. By loaning them money at the enormous in- 
terest they had been accustomed to pay, and by form- 
ing a lottery to relieve them from embarrassment, he 
obtained at once more than seventy thousand pounds ; 
and with this capital he became one of the wealthiest 
bankers in Europe. 

Thus Madame Necker, united to a man of uncommon 
talent and eloquence, herself rich in intelligence and 
learning, and surrounded by all the facilities of afflu- 
ence, passed at once from the monotonous seclusion of 
her early life to a situation as dazzling as it was distin- 
guished. 

Their house was a favorite gathering-place for the 
fashionable and philosophical coteries of Paris, and for- 
eigners of note always made it a point to be presented 
to Madame Necker. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 9 

It has been said that her husband's rise as a politician 
was greatly owing to her literary assemblies, which 
never failed to draw around them all the talented and 
influential men of the day. She wrote a book of Mis- 
cellanies, that obtained considerable reputation, es- 
pecially in Germany. But all the honors paid to 
Monsieur and Madame Necker, however nattering at 
the time, were completely eclipsed in the glorious dis- 
tinction of being the parents of Madame de Stael. 

This extraordinary being was born in Paris, in 1766. 
In her infancy, she was noticed for a remarkable degree 
of brightness, gayety, arid freedom. M. de Bonstetten 
(the correspondent of Gray the poet) tells the following 
anecdote of her when five or six years old. Being on 
a visit to his friend, M. Necker, then residing at Coppet, 
his country-seat, about two leagues from Geneva, he 
was one day walking through the grounds, when he 
was suddenly struck with a switch, from behind a tree ; 
turning round, he observed the little rogue laughing. 
She called out, ' Mamma wishes me to learn to use my 
left hand, and so I am trying.' Simond says, ' She 
stood in great awe of her mother, but was very familiar 
with her father, of whom she was dotingly fond. One 
day, after dinner, as Madame Necker rose first and left 
the room, the little girl, till then on good behaviour, all 
at once seizing her napkin, threw it across the table, in 
a fit of mad spirits, at her father's head ; then ran round 
to him, and hanging about his neck, allowed him na 
time for reproof. 

The caresses of her father, contrary to the more rigid 
views of Madame Necker, constantly encouraged her 



10 MADAME DESTAEL. 

childish prattle ; and the approbation she obtained per- 
petually excited her to new efforts : even then, she re- 
plied to the continual pleasantries of her father with that 
mixture of vivacity and tenderness, which afterward so 
delightfully characterized her intercourse with him. 
Madame Necker de Saussure, her relation and intimate 
friend, speaking of her early maturity, says, ' It seems 
as if Madame de Stael had always been young, and 
never been a child. I have heard of only one trait, 
which bore the stamp of childhood ; and even in this 
there is an indication of talent. When a very little 
girl, she used to amuse herself by cutting paper kings 
and queens, and making them play a tragedy ; her 
mother, being very rigid in her religious opinions, for- 
bade a play which might foster a love of the theatre ; 
and Marie would often hide herself to pursue her favo- 
rite occupation at leisure. Perhaps in this way she 
acquired the only peculiar habit she ever had, that of 
-twisting a bit of paper, or a leaf, between her fingers/ 

Through her whole life, the idea of giving pleasure 
to her parents was a very strong motive with her. She 
gave a singular proof of this at ten years of age. See- 
ing how much they both admired Mr. Gibbon, the early 
lover, and afterward the cordial friend of Madame 
Necker, she imagined it was her duty to marry him, in 
order that they might constantly enjoy his agreeable 
conversation ; and she seriously proposed it to her 
mother. Those who have seen a full-length profile of 
the corpulent historian will readily believe the child's 
imagination was not captivated with his figure. 
•Madame Necker being anxious that her daughter 
hould have a companion of her own age, invited Mad- 



MADAME DE STAEL. 11 

emoiselle Huber, afterwards Madame Rilliet ; the choice 
was decided by the intimacy of the families, and by the 
careful education of Mademoiselle Huber. This lady 
has written an account of their first interview, which 
will give an idea of the manners and habits of Made- 
moiselle Necker at eleven years old. At that time her 
father had just been appointed Comptroller General of 
the Finance of France. The friend of her youth, descri- 
bing their introduction to each other, says, ' She talked 
to me with a warmth and facility, which was already 
eloquence, and which made a great impression upon 
me. We did not play like children. She immediate- 
ly asked me about my lesson, whether I knew any for- 
eign languages, and if I often went to the theatre. 
When I told her I had never been but three or four 
times, she exclaimed — and promised that we should 
often go-together ; adding, that, when we returned, we 
would, according to her usual habit, write down the 
subject of the dramas, and what had particularly struck 
ns. She likewise proposed that we should write to- 
gether every morning. 

' We entered the parlor. By the side of Madame 
Necker's chair was a footstool, on which her daughter 
seated herself, being obliged to sit very upright. She 
had hardly taken her -accustomed place, when two or 
three elderly persons gathered round her, and began to 
talk to her with the most affectionate interest. The 
Abbe Raynal held her hand in his a long time, and 
conversed with her as if she had been twentyfive years 
of age. The others around her were MM. Thomas, 
Marmontel, the Marquis de Pesay, and the Baron de 
Grimm. At table, how she listened ! She did not open 



12 MADAME DE ST A EL. 

her mouth, yet she. seemed to talk in her turn, so much 
was spoken in the changing expression of her features. 
Her eyes followed! the looks and movements of those 
who conversed, and one would have judged that she 
even anticipated their ideas. On every subject she 
seemed at home ; even in politics, which at that period 
excited very great interest. After dinner, numerous 
visiters arrived. Every one, as they came up to Mad- 
ame Necker, spoke to her daughter, indulging in some 
slight compliment, or pleasantry. She replied to every 
thing with ease and gracefulness : they loved to amuse 
themselves by attacking her, and trying to embarrass 
her, in order to excite that little imagination, which al- 
ready began to show its brilliancy. Men, the most dis- 
tinguished for intellect, were those who particularly at- 
tached themselves to her. They asked her to give an 
account of what she had been reading, talked of the 
news, and gave her a taste for study by conversing 
about that which she had learned, or that of which 
she was ignorant. 

In consequence of Madame Necker's system of edu- 
cation, her daughter, at the same time that she pursued 
a course of severe study, was constantly accustomed to 
conversation beyond her years. The world must have 
somewhat softened the severity *of Madame Necker's 
opinions ; for we find that she often allowed her daugh- 
ter to assist at the representation of the best dramatic 
pieces. Her pleasures, as well as her duties, were ex- 
ercises of intellect ; and nature, which had originally 
bestowed great gifts, was assisted by every possible 
method. In this way, her vigorous faculties acquired 
a prodigious growth. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 13 

At this period of her life, we find the following ac- 
count of her in the Memoir of Baron de Grimm. 

' While M. Necker passes decrees which cover him 
with glory, and will render his administration eternally 
dear to France ; while Madame Necker renounces all 
the sweets of society to devote herself to the establish- 
ment of a Hospital of Charity, in the parish of St. Sul- 
picius, their daughter, a girl of twelve years old, who 
already evinces talents above her age, amuses herself 
with writing little comedies, after the manner of the 
semi-dramas of M. de St. Mark. She has just com- 
pleted one, in two acts, entitled the " Inconveniences of 
the life led at Paris," which is not only astonishing for 
her age, but appears even very superior to her models. It 
represents a mother who had two daughters, one brought 
up in all the simplicity of rural life, and the other amid 
the grand airs of the capital. The latter is the favorite, 
from the talents and graces she displays ; but this 
mother, falling into misfortunes, from the loss of a law- 
suit, soon learns which of the two is in reality most de- 
serving of her affection. The scenes of this little drama 
are well connected together, the characters are well 
supported, and the development of the intrigue is natu- 
ral and full of interest. M. Marmontel, who saw it 
performed in the drawing-room at St. Ouen, the country- 
house of M. Necker, by the author and some of her 
young companions, was affected by it even to tears.' 

In 1781, when her father published his Compte 
Rendu, Mademoiselle Necker wrote him a very remar- 
kable anonymous letter, which he immediately recog- 
nised by the style. 



14 



MADAME DE STAEL 



From her earliest youth, she evinced a decided taste 
for composition. Her first attempts were portraits and 
eulogiums, a style of writing which was then extremely 
popular in France, under the influence of Thomas, the 
friend of Madame Necker. At the age of fifteen, she 
made extracts from the Spirit of the Laivs ; accom- 
panied by her own reflections ; and at that time the 
the Abbe Raynal wished her to furnish, for his great 
work, an article on the Revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes. 

Her father was naturally averse to female authors, 
and nothing but her very decided excellence could have 
induced him to pardon her love of writing. 

The sensibilities of her heart seem to have been as 
early and as fully developed, as the energies of her 
mind. In 178! her father removed from office, amid 
the universal lamentations of the people, and retired to 
his residence in Switzerland. Paul of Russia and his 
princess were then travelling through Europe, under 
the title of Count and Countess du Nord. The royal 
pair visited M. Necker, at Coppet, and expressed their 
respect and esteem in terms so flattering, that Mademoi- 
selle Necker burst into tears. 

The same warmth and susceptibility of character was 
shown in ber ardent attachment for Mademoiselle 
Huber ; and indeed we find proofs of it at every period 
of her life. 

The deep feeling and sombre richness, spread over 
ail her writings, was early manifested in her literary 
taste : ' That which interested her,' says Madame Ril- 
liet, ' was always that which made her weep.' 



MADAME DE STAEL. 15 

The health of Mademoiselle Necker could not endure 
the high pressure of excitement so constantly applied to 
her intellectual faculties. Before she was fifteen years 
old, the physicians were obliged to order complete se- 
clusion, and total abandonment of study. This was a 
subject of great regret to Madame Necker. - She had 
indulged an unbounded ambition for her daughter ; 
and, according to her ideas, to give up great learning was 
to renounce all hopes of distinction. Having obtained 
extensive erudition by her own patient habits of mental 
labor, she thought every body could study as intensely 
and methodically as she had done. ' With her, every 
thing was a study. She studied society, individuals, 
the art of writing, the art of talking — she even studied 
herself : all was reduced to a system, and details were 
elevated to great importance.' 

Her feelings, as well as her mind, were kept in rigid 
subjection to propriety and method ; and, having ob- 
tained much by effort, she exacted much from others. 
Her husband once said of her, ' Madame Necker would 
be perfectly amiable, if she only had something to for- 
give in herself.' 

Such a character pre-supposes very little facility in 
varying her plans : when she found her daughter's 
constitution could not sustain the rigid system she had 
marked out for her, she gave the work of education en- 
tirely into the hands of her husband. 

The freedom of spirit thus granted to Mademoiselle 
Necker was probably the reason her genius afterward 
took so bold a flight. 

A life all poetry succeeded to her previous habits of 
study and restraint. Every thing conspired to give 



16 MADAME D E S T A E L . 

abundant nourishment to her active imagination. She 
had nothing to do but to run about the woods of St. 
Ouen, with her young friend Mademoiselle Huber. 
The two girls, dressed as nymphs, or as muses, de- 
claimed poetry, made verses, and wrote dramas, which 
they themselves represented. 

The power of profiting by her father's leisure was a 
great advantage to her at this period of her life. She 
never neglected an opportunity of being with him ; and 
his conversation was always her highest enjoyment, 
M. Necker was every day more struck with her won- 
derful intelligence ; and never did it show itself in such 
charming forms as when with him. She soon perceiv- 
ed that he had need of relaxation and amusement; and 
in the gayety of an affectionate heart she tried a thou- 
sand ways to make him smile. Her father was never 
prodigal of his approbation ; his looks were ever more 
flattering than his words. He found it more necessary, 
as well as more amusing, to notice her faults than her 
merits. No incipient imperfection escaped his raillery ; 
the slightest tendency to pretension, or exaggeration, 
was promptly checked. In after life, she often used to 
say, ' I owe the frankness of my manners, and the in- 
genuousness of my character, entirely to my father's 
penetration. He used to unmask all my little affecta- 
tions ; and I acquired the habit of believing that he 
could see into my inmost heart.' 

As might be expected, the extreme vivacity of Mad- 
emoiselle Necker was continually betraying her into 
sins against her mother's ideas of order and decorum. 
On this subject, she made a thousand good resolutions, 
but was always sure to forget them the moment she 



MADAME DE STAEL. 17 

needed them. She could not restrain her exuberant 
fancy and overflowing spirits. Her soul was a full, 
bright stream., forever deluging its banks, and rushing 
and bubbling over all impediments. 

Sometimes, with the intention of being very proper, 
she would sit demurely behind her father, at a distance 
from the company, that she might not interrupt conver- 
sation ; but presently one intelligent man would be 
withdrawn from the circle, then another, then another, 
until a noisy group was formed around her : M. Necker 
smiled, involuntarily, as her lively conversation met 
his ear, and the original subject of discussion was en- 
tirely deranged. 

The perfect friendship and boundless sympathy ex- 
isting between Mademoiselle Necker and her father 
was not entirely agreeable to Madame Necker : she 
was slightly jealous of losing the first place in her hus- 
band's affections. Had her highly-gifted daughter ex- 
celled in such qualities as belonged to her own charac- 
ter, she would have been associated with all her attrac- 
tions, and success would naturally have been attributed 
to her judicious care ; but the fact was, her daughter 
pleased by qualities exactly opposed to her own, and 
her success in society originated in a course of educa- 
tion directly contrary to her views. 

Mademoiselle Necker's character was, in many 
points, different from her father's, and decidedly marked 
by a higher order of genius ; but, in the quickness of 
her perceptions and the promptitude of her wit, she re- 
sembled him much more than she did her mother.* 

* M. Necker, though no one could have guessed it from his wri- 
tings, was full of humor, and apt ta see things in a ludicrous point 

2 



18 MADAME DESTAEL. 

We must therefore forgive the workings of human na» 
ture in Madame Necker, if she could not always con* 
ceal her impatience when she saw her husband give 
himself up so unreservedly to the enjoyment of a mind 
alike without a model, or an equal. When Madame 
Saussure expressed surprise at the prodigious distinc- 
tion of Mademoiselle Necker, her mother replied, ' It is 
nothing, absolutely nothing at all, to what I would have 
made her.' 

Through her whole life, Madame de Stael was char- 
acterized by candor and amiability ; and these qualities 
never showed themselves more plainly than when 
reproved by her mother. Perhaps she gave too open 
and decided a preference to her more indulgent parent ; 
but she always cherished a profound veneration for 
Madame Necker. Though she had, from her earliest 
childhood, indulged in habits of quick and lively repar- 
tee, she was never known, in her most careless mo- 
ments, to speak a disrespectful word of her mother. 

Madame Necker had two different kinds of influence 
upon the character and destiny of her illustrious daugh- 
ter, both of which tended to produce the same remarka- 
ble result. 

She transmitted to her ardent affections, a strong ca- 
pacity for deep impressions, great enthusiasm for the 
grand and beautiful, and an ambition for wit, talent, 
learning, and all kinds of distinction ; but the rigid re- 
straint, she imposed upon her in early life, instead of 

of view. He was rather silent, but made sly remarks and sharp 
repartees. He wrote several Witty plays ; but, thinking it beneath 
the dignity of a minister of State to publish them, he burnt them, 

Simond. 



MADAME DE ST A EL. 19 

inducing her own habits of strict discipline and self- 
control, produced a violent re-action. Madame Necker 
thought every thing of detail and method ; and the ex* 
aggerated importance she attached to them was proba- 
bly the reason that her daughter thought nothing of 
them. In Madame Necker's mind, all was acquired 
and arranged ; in her daughter's, all was freshness and 
creation. To one the world was a lesson to be studied ; 
to the other it was full of theories to be invented. The 
mother's admiration was exclusively given to habits 
and principles acquired with care, and maintained with 
watchfulness ; while the daughter's warmest sympathies 
were bestowed upon generous impulses, and natural 
goodness of heart. 

In after years, when death had taken from Madame 
de Stael the friend of her infancy, and when sad expe- 
rience had somewhat tamed the romance it could not 
destroy, she appreciated her mother's well-balanced 
character more highly. ' The more I see of life,' she 
once said to Madame Saussure, ' the better do I under- 
stand my mother ; and the more does my heart feel 
the need of her.' 

Mademoiselle Necker resided at Coppet from 1781 to 
1787, when her father was restored to office, and his 
family accompanied him to Paris. 

During her stay in Switzerland, she wrote a senti- 
mental comedy, called ' Sophia, or Secret Sentiments,' 
founded on a story of ill-directed and unhappy love ; 
published when she was twenty-one years of age. 

Immediately after she came to Paris, she finished her 
tragedy of Lady Jane Grey, which has had considera- 
ble reputation. Soon after, she wrote, but never pub- 



20 



MADAME BE STAEL. 



lished, another tragedy, called Montmorency, in which 
the part of Cardinal de Richelieu is said to have been 
sketched with great spirit. These early productions 
had prominent defects, as well as beauties. They were 
marked by that perfect harmony between thought and 
expression, which always constituted her most delight- 
ful peculiarity in conversation or writing ; but her 
friends considered them valuable principally on account 
of the promise they gave of future greatness. To the 
world they are objects of curiosity, as the first records 
in the history of an extraordinary mind. 

Her dramas were written in verse ; but she never 
after attempted poetry, except some slight effort for 
amusement. Her vigorous and rapid mind was a little 
impatient under the trammels of French versification. 
In prose she was not compelled to sacrifice originality 
and freedom ; and, in throwing away her-fetters, she 
lost nothing but rhyme, for her soul poured into prose 
all its wealth of poetry. 

Before her twentieth year, she wrote the three Tales, 
which were not published till 1795, nearly ten years 
after. She herself attached very little value to these 
light productions. A treatise on the various forms of 
fiction, in relation to progressive degrees of civilization, 
is introduced as a Preface. 

Mademoiselle Necker's eloquent and fascinating style 
of conversation gave a vivid interest to the earliest pro- 
ductions of her pen. No one heard her talk without 
Deing eager to read what she had written. The por- 
traits and impromptu sketches, which she made for the 
amusement of her friends, were handed about in par- 
ties, and sought for with avidity : even in these were 



MADAME DE STAEL. 21 

discovered her characteristic acuteness- of thought, and 
the harmonious flow of her animated style. Some- 
thing of the attention paid her at this time may no 
doubt be attributed to her father's popularity and polit- 
ical influence. 

If she had attracted much notice in Switzerland, be- 
fore her mind had attained the fulness of its majestic 
stature, it will readily be believed that she excited an 
unusual sensation when she appeared in the brilliant 
circles of Paris. Her hands and arms were finely form- 
ed, and of a- most transparent whiteness. She seldom 
covered them — confessing, with the child-like frank- 
ness which gave such an endearing charm to her pow- 
erful character, that she was resolved to make the most 
of the only personal beauty nature had given her.^ 
True, she had none of the usual pretensions to be called 
a handsome woman ; but there was an intellectual 
splendor about her face that arrested and rivetted atten- 
tion. * No expression was permanent ; for her whole 
soul was in her countenance, and it took the character 
of every passing emotion. When in perfect repose, her 
long eye-lashes gave something of heaviness and lan- 
guor to her usually animated physiognomy ; but when 
excited, her magnificent dark eyes flashed with genius, 
and seemed to announce her ideas before she could 
utter them, as lightning precedes the thunder. There 

* Her feet are said to have been clumsy. This circumstance 
gave rise to a pun, which annoyed her a little. On some occasion 
she represented a statue, the face of which was concealed. A gen- 
tleman being asked to guess who the statue was, glanced at the 
block of marble on which she stood, and answered 'Je vois 
U pied de Sta'd,' (le pitdestal.) 



22 MADAME DESTAEL. 

was nothing of restlessness in her features ; there was 
even something of indolence ; but her vigorous form, 
her animated gestures, her graceful and strongly marked 
attitudes, gave a singular degree of directness and en- 
ergy to her discourse. There was something dramatic 
about her, even in dress, which, while it was altogether 
free from ridiculous exaggeration, never failed to con- 
vey an idea of something more picturesque than the 
reigning fashion. When she first entered a room, she 
walked with a slow and grave step. A slight degree 
of timidity made it necessary for her to collect her 
faculties when she was about to attract the notice of a 
party. This cloud of embarrassment did not at first 
permit her to distinguish any thing ; but her face light- 
ed up in proportion to the friends she recognised.' 

1 The kindness and generosity of her disposition led 
her to mark the merits of others strongly on her memo- 
ry ; as she talked, she always seemed to have present 
to her thoughts the best actions and qualities of each 
one with whom she conversed. Her compliments par- 
took of the sincerity of the heart from which they 
came. She praised without flattering. She used to 
say, " politeness was only the art of choosing among 
our thoughts." ' — She possessed this art in an eminent 
degree. There never was a more shrewd observer of 
human nature, or one who better knew how to adapt 
herself to every variety of character. Sir John Sin- 
clair, a celebrated Scotchman, mentions a circumstance 
which shows the kind of tact she possessed. When 
he visited her father's house, he found her seated at 
the instrument, singing that plaintive Highland air, so 



MADAME DE STAEL. 23 

popular with his countrymen, ' Maybe to return to 
Lochaber no more.' 

The following highly-colored portrait of her, though 
full of French enthusiasm, can hardly give us an ex- 
aggerated idea of the homage she received. It was 
written by a gentleman, one of her literary friends. 

' She is the most celebrated priestess of Apollo ; the 
favorite of the god. The incense she offers is the most 
agreeable, and her hymns are the most dear. Her 
words, when she wishes, make the deities descend to 
adorn his temple, and to mingle among mortals. From 
the midst of the sacred priestesses, there suddenly ad- 
vances one — my heart always recognises her. 

1 Her large dark eyes sparkle with genius ; her hair, 
black as ebony, falls in waving ringlets on her shoul- 
ders ; her features are more strongly marked than del- 
icate, — .one reads in them something above the destiny 
of her sex. 

' Thus would we paint the muse of poetry, or Clio, 
or Melpomene. " See her ! See her!" they exclaim, 
wherever she appears ; and we hold our breath as she 
approaches. 

' I had before seen the Pythia of Delphi, and the Sybil 
of Cumse ; but they were wild ; their gestures had a 
convulsive air ; they seemed less filled with the pres- 
ence of the god, than devoured by the Furies. The 
young priestess is animated, without excess, and in- 
spired, without intoxication. Her charm is freedom ; all 
her supernatural gifts seem to be a part of herself. 

' She took her lyre of gold and ivory, and began to 
sing the praises of Apollo. The music and the words 
were not prepared. In the celestial poetic fire that 



24 MADAME DESTAEL. 

kindled in her face, and in the profound attention of th© 
people, you could see that her imagination created the 
song ; and our ears, at once astonished and delight- 
ed, knew not which to admire most, the facility, or the 
perfection, 

' A short time after, she laid aside her lyre, and talked 
of the great truths of nature, — of the immortality of 
the soul, of the love of liberty, of the charm and the 
danger of the passions. To hear her, one would have 
said there was the experience of many souls mingled 
into one : seeing her youth, we were ready to ask how 
she had been able thus to anticipate life, and to exist 
before she was born. I have looked and listened with 
transport. I have discovered in her features a charm 
superior to beauty. What an endless play of variety in 
the expression of her countenance ! What inflexions 
in the sound of her voice ! What a perfect correspon- 
dence between the thought and the expression ! She 
speaks — and, if I do not hear her words, her tones, her 
gestures, and her looks convey to me her meaning. 
She pauses — her last words resound in my heart, and 
I read in her eyes what she is yet about to say. She 
is silent — and the temple resounds with applause ; she 
bows her head in modesty; her long eye-lashes fall 
over her eyes of fire ; and the sun is veiled from our 
sight !' 

Such was Madame de Stael in the lustre of her 
youth — advancing with joy and confidence into a life, 
which promised nothing but happiness. She was her- 
self too kind to admit of any forebodings of hatred, and 
too great an admirer of genius in others to suspect that 
it could be envied. But alas ! though 



MADAME DE STAEL. • 25 

* Some flowers of Eden we still may inherit, 
The trail of the serpent is over them all.' 

Such remarkable and obvious superiority could not 
be cheerfully tolerated by the narrow-minded and the 
selfish. Mademoiselle Necker might have been forgiven 
for being the richest heiress in the kingdom ; but they 
could not pardon the fascination of talent, thus eclipsing 
beauty and overshadowing rank. The power of intel- 
lect is borne with less patience than the tyranny of 
wealth ; for genius cannot, like money, be loaned at 
six per cent. 

Accordingly we find an extreme willingness to repeat 
any thing to the disadvantage of Mademoiselle Necker. 
Anecdotes were busily circulated about her early awk- 
wardness, her untameable gayety, the blunders that 
originated in her defect of sight, and, more than all, the 
mistakes into which she had been led by her warm, un- 
suspecting temper, and the tricks that had been prac- 
tised upon her in consequence of the discovery of her 
foibles. — ' Envy, party-spirit, the strong temptation to 
be wiity at the expense of such a person, have multi- 
plied ill-natured stories, eagerly repeated even by those 
who courted her society, and whom she believed to be 
her friends ; thus giving, without intending it, the 
measure of their own inferiority, by the exclusive notice 
they took of such peculiarities of character as happened 
to be nearest their own level.'^ Neglecting to make a 
courtesy, and having a little piece of trimming ripped 
from her dress, when she was presented at court after 
her marriage, — and her having left her cap in the car- 

* Simond. 
2* 



26 MADAME DE STAEL. 

riage, when she visited Madame de Polignac, furnished 
subjects of amusement for all Paris ! 

But she herself recounted her own blunders with 
such infinite grace and good-humor, that there was no 
withstanding her. Bad indeed must have been the 
temper that could long resist the winning influence of 
her amiable manners. * When she appeared the most 
eagerly engaged in conversation, she could always de- 
tect her adversaries at a glance, and was sure to capti- 
vate or disarm them as the conversation proceeded. 
She had a singular degree of tact in guessing what re- 
ply to make to reproaches that had not been expressed. 
She never allowed herself to be tedious, and she never 
indulged in asperity. If a dispute threatened to be se- 
rious, she gave it a playful turn, and by one happy 
word restored harmony. In fact no one would have 
been encouraged in an attempt to disconcert or vex 
her ; for, as she deeply interested while she amused 
her hearers, they would have cordially joined against 
the aggressor ; and, could any one have succeeded in 
silencing her eloquence, he would -have despaired of 
being able to supply her place.' 

M. Necker's wealth, and his daughter's extraordina- 
ry powers of pleasing, soon attracted suitors. Her pa- 
rents were extremely ambitious for her ; and the choice 
was not decided without difficulty ; for she insisted 
upon not being obliged to leave France, and her mother 
made it a point that she should not marry a Catholic. 
We are told that she refused several distinguished 
men. Sir John Sinclair, in his Correspondence, speaks 
of a projected union between the son of Lord Rivers 
and Mademoiselle Necker, and regrets that it did not 



MADAME D E S T A E L . ■ 27 

lake place, as it would have withdrawn her family from 
the vortex of French politics ; but I find no allusion 
elsewhere to this English marriage, and Sir John does 
not inform us upon what authority his remark is foun- 
ded. In her works, Madame de Stael constantly ex- 
presses great admiration of England, and she chose to 
give her Corinna an English lover. Whether this 
taste, so singular in a Frenchwoman, had any thing to 
do with her early recollections, I know not. 

Her fate was at last decided by Eric-Magnus, Baron 
de Stael Holstein, a Swedish nobleman, > secretary to the 
ambassador from the court of Stockholm. He is said 
to have had an amiable disposition, a fine person, and 
courtly manners ; but we are not told that in point of 
intellect he possessed any distinguished claims to the 
hand of Mademoiselle Necker. Like a good many per- 
sonages in history, he seems to have accidentally fallen 
upon greatness by pleasing the fancies of his superiors, 
or coming in contact with their policy. He was a 
favorite with Maria Antoinette, who constantly advan- 
ced his interests by her patronage ; he was likewise the 
bosom friend of Count Fersen, who at that time had 
great influence at court. 

The queen warmly urged his suit ; Gustavus III. 
willing to please Marie Antoinette, and to secure such a 
large fortune to one of his subjects, recalled the Swedish 
ambassador, and appointed the Baron de Stael in his 
place, promising that he should enjoy that high rank 
for many years ; and the lover himself, in order to re- 
move the scruples the young lady had with regard to 
marrying a foreigner, pledged his honor that she should 
never be urged to quit France. 



28 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Sir John Sinclair tells us, that M. Necker was sup- 
posed to favor the match, in hopes of being restored to 
office through the influence of the Queen and Count 
Fersen ; but such a motive is not at all consistent with 
the character Madame de Stael has given of her father, 
who, she says, ' in every circumstance of his life, pre- 
ferred the least of his duties to the most important 
of his interests.' 

She herself probably imagined the connexion might 
be of use to her beloved parents ; and her ambition 
might have been tempted by her lover's rank as a no- 
bleman and ambassador ; at least it is difficult to ac- 
count in any other manner for her union with a foreign- 
er considerably older than herself, and with whom she- 
had few points of sympathy in character, or pursuits ; 
it was a notorious fact that she was never over-fond of 
the match, and entered into the necessary arrangements 
with great coldness. 

She was married to the Baron de Stael in 1786, 
and the bridegroom received on his wedding-day, eighty 
thousand pounds as her dowry. 

This union, like most marriages of policy, was far 
from being a happy one. Had Madame de Stael been 
a heartless, selfish character, such a destiny would have 
been good enough ; but they were indeed cruel, who 
assisted in imposing such icy fetters on a soul so ardent, 
generous, and affectionate as hers. Nature, as usual, 
rebelled against the tyranny of ambition. We are told, 
by her friends, and indeed there is internal evidence in 
most of her works, that her life was one long sigh for 
domestic love. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 29 

When she became a mother, she used playfully to 
say, ' I will force my daughter to make a marriage of 
inclination? 

The impetuosity of an unsatisfied spirit gave a singular 
degree of vehemence to all her attachments ; her grat- 
itude and friendship took the coloring of ardent love. 
She was extremely sensitive where her heart was con- 
cerned ; and at the slightest neglect, real or imaginary, 
from her friends, she would exclaim with bitter empha- 
sis, ' Never, never have I been loved as I love 
others !' 

When she was the most carried away by the excite- 
ment of society, and the impetuous inspiration of her 
own spirit, it was impossible for a friend to glide away 
unperceived by her. This watchful anxiety was the 
source of frequent reproaches ; she was forever accusing 
her friends of a diminution in their love. Madame de 
Saussure once said to her, * Your friends have to sub- 
mit each morning to renewed charges of coldness and 
neglect.' ' What matter for that,' she replied, ' if I love 
them the better every evening V She used to say, ' I 
would go the scaffold, in order to try the friendship of 
those who accompanied me.' 

Yet, with all her extreme susceptibility and enthusi- 
asm, she was not blind to the slightest defects. With 
her, character always passed under a close and rigo- 
rous examination ; but if she sometimes wounded the 
vanity of her friends by being too clear-sighted to theii 
imperfections, they were soothed by her enthusiastic 
admiration of all their great and good qualities. Indeed 
she might well be forgiven by others, since her acute 



SO MADAME 0E STAEL 

powers of analysis were directed against her own char* 
acter, with the most unsparing severity. 

The winter after Madame de Stael's marriage, her 
father was exiled forty leagues from Paris, and she was 
with him during the greater part of his absence. In the 
August following, 1788, he was recalled with added hon- 
ors, and his daughter, of course, became one of the most 
important personages in France. But while she form- 
ed the centre of attraction in the fashionable and intel- 
lectual society of Paris, she did not relinquish her taste 
for literature. In 1789, she published her famous Let- 
ters on the Character and Writings of J. J. Rousseau, 
The judicious will not approve of all the opinions ex- 
pressed in this book ; and perhaps she herself would 
have viewed things differently when riper years and 
maturer judgment had somewhat subdued the artificial 
glare which youth and romance are so apt to throw 
over wrong actions and false theories. ' It is, however, 
a glowing and eloquent tribute to the genius of that ex- 
traordinary man ; and the acuteness, shown in her re- 
marks on the Emilias, and the Treatise on the Social 
Contract, is truly wonderful in a young woman so 
much engrossed by the glittering distractions of fash- 
ionable life,' 

At first only a few copies were printed for her inti- 
mate friends ; but a full edition was soon published 
without her consent. The Baron de Grimm, who saw 
one of the private copies, speaks of it with great ad- 
miration as one of the most remarkable productions of 
the time. 

Before the year expired, we find her involved in anx- 
iety and trouble occasioned by the second exile of her 



MADAME DE STAEL. 31 

father. His dismission from office excited great clamor 
among the populace, who regarded him as the friend of 
liberty and the people. This feeling was openly ex- 
pressed by closing the theatres, as for some great na- 
tional calamity. The consequence was an almost im- 
mediate recall ; and Madame de Stael warmly exulted 
in the triumph of a parent, whom she seems to have re- 
garded with a feeling little short of idolatry. 

1 From the moment of his return, in July, 1789, to 
the period of his final fall from power, in September, 
1790, M. Necker was all-powerful in France ; and 
Madame de Stael, of course, was a person of propor- 
tional consequence in the literary, philosophical, and 
political society about the court, and in those more 
troubled circles from which the Revolution was just be- 
ginning to go forth in its most alarming forms. Her 
situation enabled her to see the sources, however secret, 
of all the movements that were then agitating the very 
foundations of civil order in France ; and she had talent 
to understand them with great clearness and truth. 
She witnessed the violent removal of the king to Paris 
on the 6th of October ; she was present at the first 
meeting of the National Convention, and heard Mira- 
beau and Barnave ; she followed the procession to 
Notre Dame, to hear Louis XVI. swear to a constitu- 
tion, which virtually dethroned him ; and from that pe- 
riod, her mind seems to have received a political ten- 
dency, that it never afterward lost. 

1 In 1790, she passed a short time with her father at 
Coppet, but soon returned to Paris. 

' She associated, on terms of intimacy, with Talley- 
rand, for whom she wrote the most important part of his 



32 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Report on Public Instruction, in 1790. She likewise 
numbered among her friends, La Fayette, Narbonne, 
Sieyes, and other popular leaders.' 

When, amid the universal consternation, there could 
be no one found to shelter the proscribed victims of the 
despotic mob, Madame de Stael had the courage to offer 
some of them an asylum, hoping the residence of a 
foreign ambassador would not be searched. She shut 
them up in the remotest chamber, and herself spent the 
night in watching the streets. 

M. de Narbonne was concealed in her house, when 
the officers of police came to make the much-dreaded 
1 domiciliary visit.' She knew that he could not es- 
cape, if a rigorous search were made, and that, if taken, 
he would be beheaded that very day. She had suf- 
ficient presence of mind to keep quite calm. Partly by 
her eloquence, and partly by a familiar pleasantry, 
which flattered them, she persuaded the men to go 
away without infringing upon the rights of a foreign 
ambassador. 

Dr. Bollman, the same generous Hanoverian who af- 
terward attempted to rescue La Fayette from the prison 
of Olmutz, offered to undertake the dangerous business 
of conveying Narbonne to England ; and he effect- 
ed it in safety by means of a passport belonging to one 
of his friends. 

As Sweden refused to acknowledge the French Re- 
public, the situation of the Baron de Stael became very 
uncomfortable at Paris ; and he was recalled in 1792, a 
short time before the death of Gustavus III. In Sep- 
tember, 1792, Madame de Stael set out for Switzer- 
land, in a coach and six, with servants in full livery ; she 



MADAME DE STAEL. 33 

was induced to do this, from the idea that the people would 
let her depart more freely, if they saw her in the style of 
an ambassadress. This was ill-judged ; a shabby post- 
chaise would have conveyed her more safely. A fero- 
cious crowd stopped the horses, calling out loudly that 
she was carrying away the gold of the nation. A gen- 
darme conducted her through half Paris to the Hotel 
de Ville, on the staircase of which several persons had 
been massacred. No woman had at that time perish- 
ed ; but the next day the Princess Lamballe was mur- 
dered by the populace. Madame de Stael was three 
hours in making her way through the crowds that on 
all sides assailed her with cries of death. They had 
nothing against her personally, and probably did not 
know who she was ; but a carriage and liveries, in 
their eyes, warranted sentence of execution. She was 
then pregnant ; and a gen-cfarme, who was placed in 
the coach, was moved with compassion at her situation 
and excessive terror ; he promised to defend her at the 
peril of his life. She says, ' I alighted from my car- 
riage, in the midst of an armed multitude, and proceed- 
ed under an arch of pikes. In ascending the staircase, 
which was likewise bristled with spears, a man pointed 
toward me the one which he held in his hand ; but my 
gen-d'arme pushed it away with his sabre. The President 
of the Commune was Robespierre ; and I breathed again, 
because I had escaped from the populace ; yet what a 
protector was Robespierre ! His secretary had left his 
beard untouched for a fortnight, that he might escape 
all suspicion of aristocracy. I showed my passports, 
and stated the right I had to depart as ambassadress of 
Sweden. Luckily for me, Manuel arrived ; he was a 



34 MADAME DESTAEL. 

man of good feelings, though he was hurried away by 
his passions. In an interview, a few days before, I had 
wrought upon his kind disposition so that he consented 
to save two victims of proscription. He immediately 
offered to become responsible for me ; and, conducting 
me out of that terrible place, he locked me up with my 
maid-servant in his closet. Here we waited six hours, 
half dead with hunger and fright. The window of the 
apartment looked on the Place de Greve, and we saw 
the assassins returning from the prisons, with their 
arms bare and bloody, and uttering horrible cries. 

' My coach with its baggage had remained in the 
middle of the square. I saw a tall man in the dress of 
a national guard, who for two hours defended it from 
the plunder of the populace ; I wondered how he could 
think of such trifling things amid such awful circum- 
stances. In the evening, this man entered my room 
with Manuel. He was Santerre, the brewer, after- 
wards so notorious for his cruelty. He had several 
times witnessed my father's distribution of corn a- 
mong the poor of the Fauxbourg St. Antoine, and was 
willing to show his gratitude. 

' Manuel bitterly deplored the assassinations that were 
going on, and which he had not power to prevent. An 
abyss was opened behind the steps of every man who 
had acquired any authority, and, if he receded, he must 
fall into it. He conducted me home at night in his car- 
riage ; being afraid of losing his popularity by doing it 
in the day. The lamps were not lighted in the streets, 
and we met men with torches, the glare of which was 
more frightful than the darkness. Manuel was often 
stopped and asked who he was, but when he answered 



MADAME DE STAEL. 35 

Le Procureur de la Commune, this Revolutionary digni- 
tary was respectfully recognised.' 

A new passport was given Madame de Stael, and she 
was allowed to depart with one maid-servant, and a 
gen-d , ar?ne to attend her to the frontier. After some 
difficulties of a less alarming nature, she arrived at 
Coppet in safety. 

During the following year, her feelings were too 
painfully engrossed in watching the approaching polit- 
ical crisis, to admit of her making any new literary 
exertion. 

She and her father having always strongly advocated 
a constitutional form of government, felt identified with 
the cause of rational freedom, and watched the ruin of 
the hopes they had formed with sad earnestness and 
bitter regret. 

They have been frequently accused by their political 
enemies' of having excited and encouraged the horrible 
disorders of the Revolution ; indeed the rancor of party- 
spirit went so far as to accuse Madame de Stael, — the 
gforious, the amiable Madame de Stael! — of having 
been among the brutal mob at Versailles, disguised as a 
Poissarde. Nothing could in fact have been more un- 
true than charges of this description. Zealous friends 
of the equal rights of man, M. Necker and his sagacious 
daughter saw plainly that a change was needed in the 
French government, and no doubt they touched the 
springs, which set the great machine in motion ; but 
they could not foresee its frightful accumulation of 
power, or the ruinous work to which it would be direc- 
ted. The limited monarchy of England was always a 
favorite model with Madame de Stael. In her conver- 



36 MADAME DE STAEL. 

sation, and in her writings, she has declared that the 
French people needed such a form of government, and, 
sooner or later, they would have it. 

Had the character of Louis XVI. been adapted to the 
crisis in which he lived, her wishes might have been real- 
ized ; but she evinced her usual penetration when she said 
of that monarch, ' He would have made the mildest of 
despots, or the most constitutional of kings ; but he was 
totally unfit for the period when public opinion was 
making a transition from one to the other.' To save 
the royal family from untimely death was the object of 
Madame de Stael's unceasing prayers and efforts. Hav- 
ing been defeated in a plan to effect their escape from 
France, we find her, during this agitating period, silent- 
ly awaiting the progress of events, which she dared not 
attempt to control ; but when Marie Antoinette was 
condemned to be beheaded, she could no longer restrain 
her agonized spirit. In August, 1793, heedless of the 
danger she incurred, she boldly published Reflections 
on the Process against the Queen. ( A short but most 
eloquent appeal to the French nation, beseeching them 
to pause and reflect, before they should thus disgrace 
themselves with the world, and with posterity.' Histo- 
ry informs us how entirely this and all other disinteres- 
ted efforts failed to check the fury of the populace. The 
Revolution rushed madly on in its infernal course of 
blood and crime. 

With the death of Gustavus III. there came a change 
of politics in Sweden. The Baron de Stael was again 
sent to Paris, the only ambassador from a monarchy to 
the new republic. Most of his old friends were pro- 
scribed, or imprisoned, and many of them had perished 



MADAME DE STAEL. 37 

on the scaffold ; even the family of his wife did not 
dare to reside in France. To secure popularity in his 
precarious situation, he gave three thousand francs to 
the poor of La Croix Rouge, a section particularly dis- 
tinguished for its republicanism. He could not, howev- 
er, feel secure amid the frightful scenes that were 
passing around him ; and he soon hastened back to 
Sweden, where he remained until after the death of 
Robespierre. ' For a short time, during those dreadful 
months, which have been so appropriately termed the 
Reign of Terror, Madame de Stael was in England ; 
and, what is remarkable, she was in England, poor ; 
for the situation of the two countries at that crisis pre- 
vented her receiving the funds necessary for her sup- 
port. She lived in great retirement at Richmond, with 
two of her countrymen no less distinguished than Nar- 
bonne and Talleyrand, both, like herself, anxiously 
watching the progress of affairs in France, and hoping 
for some change that would render it safe for them to 
return. It is a curious item in the fickle cruelty of the 
Revolution, that these three persons, who, during such 
a considerable portion of their lives, exercised an in- 
fluence, not only on their country, but on the world, 
were now deprived of their accustomed means of sub- 
sistence ; and it is worthy of notice, as a trait in their 
national character, that they were not depressed nor 
discouraged by it. 

' All they had, when thrown into the common stock, 

was merely sufficient to purchase a kind of carnage, 

which would hold but two. As they rode about to see 

the country, Narbonne and Talleyrand alternately 

3 



38 • MADAME DE STAEL. 

mounted as footmen behind, breaking out the glass of 
the chaise, in order to carry on a conversation with 
those inside. Madame de Stael has often said that, in 
these conversations, she has witnessed and enjoyed 
more of the play of the highest order of talent than at 
any other period of her life. Talleyrand came from En- 
gland to the United States. Narbonne, if I mistake not, 
went to the continent ; and Madame de Stael ventured 
back to France, in 1795. Her husband was again am- 
bassador at Paris, where he remained, calmly receiving 
the alternate insolence and flattery of the populace, until 
1799, when he was recalled by the young king, Gus- 
tavus Adolphus. All beneath the surface in France 
was, at that time, heaving and tumultuous ; but men 
had been so terrified and wearied with the work of 
blood, that society was for a time restored to external 
stillness. 

1 At such a period, a mind like Madame de StaeTs 
had a powerful influence. Her saloon was a resort for 
all the restless politicians of the day, and she was once 
denounced to the Convention as a person dangerous to 
the state ; but her character, as wife of a foreign am- 
bassador, protected her ; and she even ventured to pub- 
lish a pamphlet on the prospect of peace, addressed to 
Mr. Pitt and the French people, which contained re- 
marks opposed to the views of the reigning demagogue. 
This pamphlet was much praised by Mr. Fox in the 
English Parliament. 

The principal charge brought against her by the Di- 
rectory, was the courage and zeal with which she served 
the suffering emigrants : she would have been impris- 



MADAME D E STAEL. 39 

oned on this account, had it not been for the friendly ex- 
ertions of Barras. 

One day, an emigrant, whose brother was arrested 
and condemned to be shot, came in great agitation to 
beg her to save his life. She recollected that she had 
some acquaintance with General Lemoine, who had a 
right to suspend the judgments of the military commis- 
sion. Thanking Heaven for the idea, she instantly 
went to his house. 

At first, he abruptly refused her petition. She says, 
' My heart throbbed at the sight of that brother, who 
might think that I was not employing the words best 
fitted to obtain what I asked. I was afraid of saying 
too much or too little ; of losing the fatal hour, after 
which all would be over ; or of neglecting an argument, 
which might prove successful. I looked by turns at the 
clock and the General, to see whether his soul or time 
would approach the term most quickly. Twice he took 
the pen to sign a reprieve, and twice the fear of com- 
mitting himself restrained him. At last, he was una- 
ble to refuse us ; and may heaven shower blessings on 
him for the deed. The reprieve arrived in season, and 
innocence was saved !' 

In 1796, Madame de Stael was summoned to Coppet 
to attend the death-bed of her mother. She has given 
us a very interesting account of her father's unwearied 
tenderness toward his dying wife, in the Preface to M. 
Necker's MSS. published by her after his death. She 
remained to soothe her father under his severe afflic- 
tion, for nearly a year. During this time, she wrote 
her Essay on the Passions, divided into two parts : 1st, 
their Influence on the Happiness of Individuals ; 2d, on 



40 MADAME DE STAEL. 

the Happiness of Nations. This work was suggested 
by the fearful scenes of the French Revolution, and 
probably could not have been written, except by one 
who had witnessed the reckless violence and unnatu- 
ral excitement of that awful period. It bears the marks 
of her peculiar strength, originality, and fervor ; but 
it is accused of great metaphysical obscurity, and of 
presenting too dark and lurid a picture of the human 
mind. Mr. Jeffrey, in a review of Madame de Stael, 
says, ' She always represents men a great deal more 
unhappy, more depraved, and more energetic, than they 
are ; she varnishes all her pictures with the glare of 
an extravagant enthusiasm.' 

This is undoubtedly just ; but it is excused by the 
peculiar circumstances of the times in which she lived, 
acting on her ardent feelings and powerful imagina- 
tion. No one but a witness of the French Revolution 
could have ranked a love of guilt and violence among 
the inherent passions of our nature. 

The secoud part, intended to embrace the principal 
object of the work, was never finished. 

We have already mentioned that Madame de Stael's 
affections were supposed to have small share in her 
marriage. The coolness of her feelings toward the 
Baron de Stael was considerably increased by his heed- 
less extravagance. On his wedding-day, he is said to 
have assigned all his ministerial allowance to his 
friend, Count Fersen ; and the princely dowry he re- 
ceived with his wife was soon nearly dissipated by his 
thoughtless expenditure. Such was the embarrass- 
ment of his affairs, that Madame de Stael thought it 
a duty to place herself and her three children under 



MADAME £>E STAEt,. 41 

the protection of her father. Thus the projectors of 
this match met the usual fate of those, who attempt to 
thwart nature, and take destiny out of the hands of 
Providence t it not' only made the parties wretched, but 
it did not even serve the ambitious purposes for which 
the sacrifice is supposed to have been made; 

Her separation from her husband was not of long 
continuance. Illness, and approaching age required a 
Wife's attentions ; and Madame de Stael, true to the 
kind impulses of her generous nature, immediately re- 
turned to hirm As soon as he could bear removal, she 
attempted, by slow journeys, to bring him to her father's 
residence, that she and her children might make the 
evening of his days as cheerful as possible. It was> 
however, destined to be otherwise ; he died at Poligni> 
on his way to Coppet, May 9th, 1802. 

1 Madame de Stael's Essays on the Passions led her 
mind to a series of inquiries, which ended in her cel- 
ebrated Essay on Literature, considered in its relations 
with the Social Institutions. She devoted four years of 
severe labor to this work. It was begun at Coppet in 
1796, and published in 1800. This great subjectis di- 
vided into two parts : 1st, the Influence of Religion, 
Manners, and Laws on Literature, with the reciprocal 
Influence of Literature on Religion, Manners, and 
Laws ; and 2d, the existing state and future prospects 
of all in France at the time she wrote. It is a bold and 
powerful review, by masses, of the relation of society to 
literature and of literature to society, from the time of 
Homer to the year 1789. The theory of the perfecti- 
bility of the human race, early struck the imagination 
3* 



42 MADAME DE STAEL, 

of Madame de Stael ; and her efforts to prove this 
theory by the history of the world, and the progress of 
literature, has led her into difficulties, and mistakes in 
this important work ; it is, however, a beautiful whole, 
and deservedly placed her in the first rank among the 
writers of the age. 

' Immediately after the completion of this remarkable 
book, Madame de Stael went to Paris, where she arri- 
ved on the 9th of November, 1799 — the very day that 
placed the destiny of France in the hands of Bonaparte.' 
Her imagination seems to have been, at first, dazzled by 
the military glory of Napoleon. Lavalette was intro- 
duced to her at Talleyrand's, at the time when every 
body was talking of the brilliant campaigns in Italy. He 
says, ' During dinner, the praises Madame de Stael lav- 
ished on the conqueror of Italy had all the wildness, 
romance, and exaggeration of poetry. When we left 
the table, the company withdrew to a small room, to 
look at the portrait of the hero ; and, as I stepped back 
to let her walk in, she said, " How shall I dare to pass 
before an aid-de-camp of Bonaparte !" My confusion 
was so great that she also felt a little of it, and Talley- 
rand laughed at us.' 

In her work on the French Revolution, she says, * It 
was with a sentiment of great admiration that I first 
saw Bonaparte at Paris. I could not find words to reply 
to him when he came to me to say that he had sought 
my father at Coppet, and regretted having passed 
through Switzerland without seeing him. But, when 
I was a little recovered from the confusion of admira- 
tion, a strongly-marked sentiment of fear succeeded. 
He, at that time, had no power ; the fear he inspired 



MADAME DE STAEL. 43 

Was caused only by the singular effect of his person 
upon nearly all who approached him. Far from recov- 
ering my confidence at seeing him more frequently, he 
constantly intimidated me more and more. I had a 
confused feeling that no emotion of the heart could act 
upon him. He regarded a human being as a thing, 
not as a fellow-creature. For him nothing existed but 
himself. Every time he spoke I was struck with his 
superiority ; his discourse had no similitude to that of 
intellectual and cultivated men ; but it indicated an 
acute perception of circumstances, such as the sports- 
man has of the game he pursues. He related the polit- 
ical and military events of his life in a very interesting 
manner ; he had even something of Italian imagina- 
tion in narratives which admitted of gayety. But noth- 
ing could overcome my invincible aversion' to what I 
perceived in his character. There was in him a pro- 
found irony, from which nothing grand or beautiful 
escaped ; his wit was like the cold, sharp sword in ro- 
mance, which froze the wound it inflicted. I could never 
breathe freely in his presence. I examined him with at- 
tention ; but when he observed that my looks were fixed 
upon him, he had the art of taking away all expression 
from his eyes, as if they had been suddenly changed 
to marble.' 

Notwithstanding these feelings of fear and distrust, 
Madame de Stael seems to have been willing to pro- 
duce an impression upon the First Consul. This 
might have originated in ambition to obtain the confi- 
dence of a man likely to possess so much political pow- 
er ; or in vanity, slightly piqued by the indifference 
with which he treated her, in common with all other 



44 MADAME DE STAELi 

women ; for indifference was a thing to which Madam© 
de Stael Was entirely unaccustomed. 

Sir Walter Scott tells us, that she once asked Bona- 
parte, rather abruptly, in the middle of a brilliant party 
at Talleyrand's, ' whom he considered the greatest 
woman in the world, alive or dead V l Her, madam* 
who has borne the most children,' replied Bonaparte, 
with much appearance of simplicity. Disconcerted by 
this rejoinder, in which was combined the selfishness of 
a politician with the grossness of a sensualist, she ob- 
served, that ' he was reported not to be a great ad* 
mirer of the fair sex.' { I am very fond of my wife, 
madam,' he replied, with one of those brief yet piquant 
observations, which adjourned a debate as promptly 
as one of his characteristic manoeuvres would have 
ended a battle.' 

According to Bourrienne, this sort of abruptness to* 
wards ladies was nothing unusual in Napoleon. He 
tells us that he often indulged in such rude exclama- 
tions as the following, — ' How red your elbows are ! } 
' What a strange head-dress you wear i ' ( Pray, tell 
me if you ever change your gown ! ' &c. 

An anecdote Madame de Stael herself tells in her 
Ten Years' Exile, betrays a wish that Bonaparte should 
at least be afraid of her talents. ' I was invited to Gen- 
eral Berthier's one day,' says she, ' when the First 
Consul was to be of the party. As I knew he had ex- 
pressed himself unfavorably about me, it occurred to 
me, that he might accost me with some of those rude 
expressions, which he often took pleasure in addressing 
to ladies, even when they paid court to him ; for this 
reason, I wrote a number of tart and piquant replies to 



MADAME DE STAEL. 45 

what I supposed he might say. Had he chosen to in- 
sult me, it would have shown a want both of character 
and understanding to have been taken by surprise ; and 
as no person could be sure of being unembarrassed in 
the presence of such a man, I prepared myself before- 
hand to brave him. Fortunately, the precaution was. 
unnecessary ; he only addressed the most common 
questions to me.' 

In fact, to Bonaparte's habitual contempt of women, 
was added some fear of Madame de StaeTs penetration, 
as well as her politics. ' He was disposed to repel the 
advances of one, whose views were so shrewd, and her 
observation so keen, while her sex permitted her to 
push her inquiries farther than one man might have 
dared to do in conversation with another.' 

Besides all this, she was the only writer of any no- 
toriety in France, who had never in any way alluded to 
him or his government ; and, like her, he probably 
would have preferred sarcasm to silence. Moreover, 
Bonaparte, for a great man, had some very narrow 
views, and very contemptible feelings. Perhaps he in- 
dulged somewhat of jealousy toward a woman, who in 
his own capital was such a powerful competitor for fame. 

He judged rightly when he supposed that her great 
abilities would all be exerted in opposition to his ambi- 
tious views. Her peculiar position in society brought 
her in contact with almost every person of rank and in- 
fluence ; and this, united with her own uncommon sa- 
gacity, soon enabled her to discover his real character and 
intentions. From the moment she understood him, she 
became one of the most active and determined of his op- 
posers. In the beginning of his reign, when policy com- 



46 



MADAME DE STAE 



pelled him to be gradual in his usurpation of power, she 
was not a little troublesome to him. In the organization 
of the new government, she is said to have fairly out- 
manoeuvred him, and to have placed the celebrated Ben- 
jamin Constant in one of the assemblies, in spite of his 
efforts to the contrary. Bonaparte kept close watch up- 
on her ; and his spies soon informed him that people al- 
ways left Madame de Stael's house with less confidence 
in him, than they had when they entered it. 

Joseph Bonaparte said to her, ' My brother complains 
of you. He asked me yesterday, ' Why does not Ma- 
dame de Stael attach herself to my government ? Does 
she want the payment of her father's deposit ? I will give 
orders for it. Does she wish for a residence in Paris ? 
1 will allow it her. In short, what is it that she wish- 
es ? " Madame de Stael replied, ' The question is not 
what I ivish, but what I think.'' She says, ' I know not 
whether Joseph reported this answer to Napoleon ; but 
if he did, I am certain he attached no meaning to it ; for 
he believes in the sincerity of no one's opinions; he con- 
siders every kind of morality as nothing more than a 
form, or as the regular means of forwarding selfish and 
ambitious views. 

' Integrity, whether encountered in individuals or na- 
tions, was the only thing for which he knew not how to 
calculate ; his artifices were disconcerted by honesty, as 
evil spirits are exorcised by the sign of the cross.' 

A zealous friend of liberty, so clear-sighted to his 
views, and so openly his enemy, was of cuurse a very 
inconvenient obstacle in the path of Napoleon. Being 
anxious for a pretext to banish her, he seized upon the 
first that offered, which happened to be the publication 



MADAME DESTAEL. 47 

of a political pamphlet by her father, in 1802. On the 
pretence that she had contributed to the falsehoods, which 
he said it contained, he requested Talleyrand to inform 
her that she must quit Paris. This was a delicate office 
for an old acquaintance to perform ; but Talleyrand was 
even then used to difficult positions. His political history 
has proved that no fall, however precipitate, could bewil- 
der the selfish acuteness of his faculties, or impair the 
marvellous pliancy of his motions : his attachment to 
places rather than persons is another, and stronger point 
of resemblance, between him and a certain household 
animal. 

An anecdote which has been often repeated is a good 
specimen of his diplomatic adroitness : Madame de 
Stael, being in a boat with him and Madame Grand, af- 
terward his wife, put his gallantry to the proof by asking 
him ' which he would try to save, if they should both 
chance to fall in the water ? ' ' My dear madam,' repli- 
ed Talleyrand, 'I should be so sure that you would 
know how to swim.' 

His characteristic finesse was shown in his manner of 
performing the embarrassing office assigned him by the 
First Consul. He called upon Madame de Stael and 
after a few compliments, said, ' I hear, madam, you are 
going to take a journey.' ' Oh, no ! it is a mistake, I 
have no such intention.' ' Pardon me, I was informed 
that you were going to Switzerland.' ' I have no such 
project, I assure you.' ' But I have been told, on the best 
authority, that you would quit Paris in three days.' 
Madame de Stael took the hint, and went to Coppet. 

In the meantime, however, before she left Paris, she 
completed a novel in six volumes, under the title of Del- 



48 MADAME DE STAEL. 

phine, which was published in 1802. This work is an 
imitation of Kousseau's Nouvelle Heloise. Being writ- 
ten in the form of letters, it afforded facilities for em- 
bodying animated descriptions of Parisian society, and the 
sparkling sayings of the moment. But things of this 
sort, ' like the rich wines of the south, though delicious 
in their native soil, lose their spirit by transportation.' 

Delphine is a brilliant and unhappy being, governed 
by her feelings, and misled by her haughty sense of 
freedom. The reader at once suspects that, under a 
slight veil of fiction, the author is her own heroine : and 
though there are some intentional points of difference, I 
presume that Delphine is a pretty correct portrait of 
Madame de Stael's impetuous and susceptible character 
at the time she wrote it. 'This book has all the extrav- 
agance and immorality of the Nouvelle Heloise, but is 
inferior to its model in eloquence and enthusiasm.' 

In 1S03, Madame de Stael ventured to reside within 
ten leagues of Paris, occasionally going there, to visit 
the museum and the theatres. Some of her enemies 
informed Bonaparte that she received a great many vis- 
iters, and he immediately banished her to the distance 
of forty leagues from the capital ; a sentence which was 
rigorously enforced. This severity excited the more 
remark as she was the first woman exiled by Bona- 
parte. A panegyrist of Napoleon has implied that she 
incurred his hatred by persecuting him with her love ; 
that she was always telling him none but an intellectual 
woman was fit to be his mate, that genius should unite 
with genius, &c. 

This is unquestionably a fable. If she made such 
remarks to the hero, it could not have been with a view 



MADAME DE ST AEL. 49 

to herself ; for he married Josephine several years be- 
fore the death of the Baron de Stael. Her own ac- 
count of her feelings towards Bonaparte is sufficiently 
frank and explicit to warrant our belief in its truth. 

Joseph Bonaparte, of whose uniform kindness Mad- 
ame de Stael speaks very gratefully, interceded in her 
favor ; and his wife even dared to invite her to spend 
a few days at their country-seat, at the very time when 
she was the object of Napoleon's persecution. 

Bonaparte knew enough of Madame de StaeTs char- 
acter to be aware that an exile from Paris would be a 
most terrible calamity. The excitement of society was 
almost as necessary to her existence, as the air she 
breathed ; reluctant to relinquish it, she lingered near 
the metropolis as long as she dared, before taking her 
final departure for Switzerland. 

Nothing could be more intimate and delightful than 
the friendship between M. Necker and his highly-gifted 
daughter ; but notwithstanding the happiness she enjoy- 
ed in his society, and the delight she took in the educa- 
tion of her children, Madame de Stael sighed for the in- 
tellectual excitements of Paris. She had been so long 
accustomed to society, that it became an indispensable 
impulse to her genius and her gayety. She reproach- 
ed herself for these feelings, and made strong efforts to 
become habituated to the monotony of a secluded life. 
But she no longer seemed like herself. Madame de 
Stael, thus tarried, was no longer Madame de Stael. 

Her father, conscious how much she needed the ex- 
hilarating influence of society, had always encouraged 
her visits to Paris ; and now that she was exiled from 
the scene of so many triumphs and so much enjoyment, 



50 MADAME DE STAEL. 

he strongly favored her project of visiting Germany. 
Accordingly, in the winter of 1803, she went to Frank- 
fort, Weimar, and Berlin. 

A greater contrast to the German style of manners 
can hardly be imagined. " They could not at all ap- 
preciate or understand such a phenomenon as Madame 
de Stael must have appeared in those days. She 
whisked through their skies, like a meteor, before they 
could bring the telescope of their wits to a right focus 
for observation." But there, as elsewhere, she was ad- 
mired and followed. Bettina von Arnim writes thus to 
the mother of Goethe : " Now I will just tell you that 
I supped with de Stael yesterday, at Mainz. No lady 
would undertake to sit next her ; so I sat myself beside 
her, and uncomfortable enough it was. The gentlemen 
stood round the table, and planted themselves all behind 
us, pressing one upon the other, only to speak with or 
look at her. They leaned quite over me, and I said in 
French, ' Your adorers quite suffocate me ; ' at which 
she laughed. There came at last so many, who all 
wanted to speak with her, across and over me, that I 
could endure it no longer, and said, ' Your laurels press 
too heavily upon my shoulders.' I got up, and made 
my way through her admirers. Then Sismondi, her 
companion, came and kissed my hand, and said I had 
much talent. This he told over to the rest, and they 
repeated it at least twenty times, as if I had been a 
prince, from whom everything sounds clever, be it never 
so common-place. I afterward listened to her while 
she was speaking of Goethe. She said she had expect- 
ed to see a second Werter, but was mistaken, for nei- 
ther his manners nor person answered the character ; 



MADAME DE STAEL. 51 

and she lamented much that there was nothing of Wer- 
ter about him. I was angry at such talk, and turned 
to Schlegel, and said to him in German, ' Madame de 
Stael has fallen into a twofold error, first in her ex- 
pectation, and then in her opinion.' We Germans 
think Goethe can shake out of his sleeve twenty such 
heroes, equally imposing for the French ; but that he 
himself is quite another sort of hero." 

In another letter to Goethe himself, Bettina thus de- 
scribes the introduction of the celebrated Frenchwoman 
to his mother : " My misfortune took me to Frankfort, 
exactly as Madame de Stael passed through. I had al- 
ready enjoyed her society a whole evening at Mainz. 
Your mother was well pleased to have my assistance ; 
for she was already informed that Madame de Stael 
would bring her a letter from you, and she wished me 
to play the interpreter, if she should need relief during 
this great catastrophe. The interview took place in the 
apartments of Maurice Bethmann. Your mother, ei- 
ther through irony or fun, had decorated herself won- 
derfully, but with German humor and not in French 
taste. I must tell you that when I looked at your 
mother, with three feathers upon her head, which nod- 
ded on three different sides, — one red, one white, and 
one blue, the French national colors, — rising from out 
a field of sun-flowers, my heart beat with joy and ex- 
pectation. She was deeply rouged, and her great black 
eyes fired a burst of artillery. Round her neck, she 
wore the celebrated gold ornaments, given her by the 
queen of Prussia. Lace, of ancient fashion and great 
splendor, (a complete heir-loom) covered her bosom. 
Thus she stood, with white kid gloves. In one hand 



62 MADAME DESTAEL. 

was a curiously wrought fan, with which she set the 
air in motion ; the other hand, which was bared* was 
quite covered with sparkling stones. From time to 
time, she took a pinch out of a golden snuff-box, in 
which was set a miniature of you ; where with powder- 
ed ringlets, you are thoughtfully leaning your head 
upon your hand. The party of distinguished elder ladies 
formed a semicirle in Maurice Bethmann's bed-cham- 
ber. On the purple carpet, in the centre of which was 
a white field with a leopard, the company looked so 
stately that it might well be imposing. On the walls 
were ranged beautiful Indian plants, and the apartment 
was lighted by shaded glass globes. Opposite the semi- 
circle stood the bed, upon a dais of two steps, also cov- 
ered with purple tapestry, and on each side was a can- 
delabra. I said to your mother, ' Madame de Stael 
will think she is cited before the court of Love ; for the 
bed yonder looks like the covered throne of Venus.' It was 
thought that then she might have much to answer for. 
At last, the long-expected one came through a suite of 
lighted apartments, accompanied by Benjamin Constant. 
She was dressed as Corinne. Her turban was of aurora 
and orange-colored silk, a dress of the same, with an 
orange tunic, girdled so high as to leave little room for 
her heart. Her black brows and lashes glittered, as 
also her lips, with a mysterious red. Her long gloves 
were drawn down, covering only her hand, in which 
she held the well-known laurel-sprig. As the apart- 
ment where she was expected lies much lower, she was 
obliged to descend four steps. Unfortunately, she held 
up her dress before instead of behind ; this gave the 
solemnity of her reception a terrible blow ; it looked 



MADAME DE StAEL. 53 

very odd, as, clad in complete oriental style, she march- 
ed down toward the stiff dames of the virtue-enrolled 
Frankfort society. Your mother darted a few daring 
glances at me, whilst they were presented to each other* 
I had stationed myself apart to observe the whole 
scene. I perceived Madame de Stael's astonishment at 
the remarkable decorations and dress of your mother* 
who displayed an immense pride. She spread out her 
robe with her left hand ; with her right she saluted* 
playing with her fan, and bowing her head with great 
condescension, and said, with an elevated voice, ' Je 
snis la mere de GoetheS (I am the mother of Goethe.) 
• Ah je suis charmee,' (Ah, I am charmed,) answered 
the authoress, and then followed a solemn stillness* 
Then ensued the presentation of her distinguished 
suite, Schlegel, Sismondi, and Constant, also curious to 
become acquainted with Goethe's mother. Your mother 
answered their civilities with a New Year's wish in 
French, which, with solemn courtesies, she kept mup 
muring between her teeth. In short, I think the audi* 
ence was perfect, and gave a fine specimen of the Ger* 
man grandazza. Soon your mother beckoned me to her* 
and I was forced to play interpreter between both." 

At Frankfort, Madame de Stael's daughter, then five 
years old, was taken dangerously ill. She knew no 
one in that city, and was ignorant of the language ; 
even the physician, to whose care she entrusted the 
child, scarcely spoke a word of French. Speaking of 
her distress on this occasion, she exclaims, ' Oh, how 
my father shared with me in all my trouble ! What let- 
ters he wrote me ! What a number of consultations of 
4 



54 MADAME OE STAEL, 

physicians, all copied with his own hand, he sent me 
from Geneva ! ' 

The child recovered, and she proceeded to Weimar, so 
justly called the Athens of Germany ; and afterward to 
Berlin, where she was received with distinguished kind- 
ness hy the king and queen, and the young prince Louis. 
At Weimar she writes, ' I resumed my courage on seeing, 
through all the difficulties of the language, the immense 
intellectual riches that existed out of France. I learnt 
to read German ; I listened attentively to Goethe and 
Wieland, who, fortunately for me, spoke French extreme- 
ly well. I comprehended the mind and genius of Schil- 
ler, in spite of" the difficulty he felt in expressing himself 
in a foreign language. The society of the Duke and 
Duchess of Weimar pleased me exceedingly. I passed 
three months there, during which the study of German 
literature gave me all the occupation my mind required. 

My father wished me to pass the winter in Germany, 
and not return to him until spring. Alas ! alas ! how 
much I calculated on carrying back to him the harvest 
of new ideas which I was going to collect in this jour- 
ney. He was frequently telling me that my letters and 
conversation were all that kept up his connexion with 
the world. His active and penetrating mind excited me to 
think, for the sake of the pleasure of talking to him. If 
I observed, it was to convey my impressions to him ; if 
I listened, it was to repeat to him.' 

M. de Bonstetten, who used to see her correspondence 
with her father, says, ' The letters she wrote him had 
more spirit, ease, eloquence, and acuteness of observa- 
tion, than anything she ever published.' It is deeply to 
be regretted that M. Necker, from motives of political 



MADAME DE STAEL. 65 

caution, always burnt these letters as soon as they had 
been seen by her most intimate friends. Madame de 
Saussure speaks of them as indescribably charming — 
full of striking anecdotes, and pictorial sketches. She 
says, ' Nothing could surpass them, but Madame de Sta- 
ll's first interviews with her father, after she had been 
separated from him by a temporary absence. The deep 
emotion, which she tried to repress, lest it should excite 
him too much, spread itself like a torrent over all her 
conversation. She talked of men and things — discussed 
governments— and described the effects she herself had 
produced — with an eager joy, that continually overflow- 
ed in caresses and tears. Everything she recounted 
was made to bear some relation to him. The charac- 
ters she portrayed were brought in lively contrast with 
his intelligence, his goodness, and his perfect integrity. 
However foreign the subject, it always conveyed some 
indirect eulogium, or some expression of tenderness, to 
her beloved father. What a paternal glory illuminated 
M. Necker's countenance as he looked and listened ! 
How joy sparkled in those eyes, which never lost the 
fire of youth ! Not that he believed her lavish praise- 
but in it he read his daughter's heart, and his own de- 
lighted in her prodigious endowments.' 

The same lady relates the following anecdote, some- 
what laughable in itself, but interesting as a specimen 
of Madame de Stael's excessive sensibility in every 
thing that related to her father : 

< M. Necker had sent his carriage to Geneva for the 
purpose of bringing myself and children to Coppet. It 
was evening when I left home, and the carriage was over- 
turned in a ditch. No one was injured; but as it 



56 MADAME DE 3TAEL* 

took some time to refit the carriage, it was quite late 
when we arrived at Coppet. Madame de Stael was a- 
lone in the parlor, anxiously awaiting our arrival. As 
soon as I began to speak of our accident, she eagerly- 
interrupted me with, ' How did you come V ' In your 
father's carriage.' 'Yes, yes, I know that— hut who 
brought you V ' Kichard the coachman.' « Good heav- 
ens !' she exclaimed, ' what if he should upset my father /' 

She rung the bell violently, and ordered the coach- 
man to be called. The man being out of the way, 
she was obliged to wait a moment, during which time 
she walked the room in great agitation. 

' My poor father ! ' she repeated, ' what if he should 
be upset ? At your age, and that of your children, it is 
nothing at all. But at his age— and so large as he is— « 
and into a ditch too ! Perhaps he would have remained 
there a long time, calling, and calling in vain. My poor 
father !' 

' When the coachman appeared, I was very curious 
to see how she would find vent for her strong emotions; 
for she was proverbially very kind and affable to her 
domestics. She advanced solemnly toward him, and in 
a voice somewhat stifled, but which gradually became 
very loud, she said, ' Richard, have you ever heard that 
I have a great deal of talent.?' The man stared in a- 
mazement. ' I say,' she repeated, ' do you know that 
1 have a great deal of talent ? ' He remained silent and 
confused. ' Learn then that I have talent, great talent, 
prodigious talent ! and I will make use of the whole of 
it, to keep you shut up in a dungeon all your life, if 
you ever upset my father ! ' ' 



MADAME DE ST AEL. 57 

Alas ! this sacred tie, the strongest perhaps that ever 
bound the hearts of parent and child, was soon to be 
burst asunder. At Berlin, Madame de Stael was sud- 
denly stopped in her travels, by the news of her father's 
dangerous illness. She hastened back with an impa- 
tience that would fain have annihilated time and space ; 
but he died before she arrived. This event happened 
in April, 1804. At first, she refused to believe the tid- 
ings. She was herself so full of life, that she could not 
realize death. Her father had such remarkable fresh- 
ness of imagination, such cheerfulness, such entire sym- 
pathy with youthful feeling, that she forgot the differ- 
ence in their ages. She could not bear to think of him 
as old ; and once, when she heard a person call him so, 
she resented it highly, and said she never wished to see 
anybody who repeated such words. And now, when 
they told her that the old man was gathered to his fa- 
thers, she could not, and she would not believe it. 

Madame de Saussure was at Coppet when M.Necker 
died ; and as soon as her services to him were ended, she 
went to meet her friend, on her melancholy return from 
Germany, under the protection of M. de Schlegel, her 
son's German tutor. She says, the convulsive agony 
of her grief was absolutely frightful to witness ; it seem- 
ed as if life must have perished in the struggle. Her 
friends tried every art to soothe her ; and sometimes for 
a moment she appeared to give herself up to her usual 
animation and eloquence ; but her trembling hands, and 
quivering lips soon betrayed the internal conflict, and 
the transient calm was succeeded by a violent burst of 
anguish. Yet even during these trying moments, she 
displayed her characteristic kindness of heart : she con- 



58 MADAME DE STAEL. 

stantly tried to check her sorrow, that she might give 
such a turn to the conversation as would put M. de 
Schlegel at his ease, and enable him to show his great 
abilities to advantage. 

The impression produced upon Madame de Stael by 
her father's death seems to have been as deep and abi- 
ding, as it was powerful, Through her whole life, she 
carried him in her heart. She believed that his spirit 
was her guardian angel ; and when her thoughts were 
most pure and elevated, she said it was because he was 
with her. She invoked him in her prayers, and when 
any happy event occurred, she used to say, with a sort 
of joyful sadness, * My father has procured this for me.' 
His miniature became an object of superstitious love. 
Once, and once only, she parted with it for a short 
time. Having herself found great consolation, during 
illness, in looking at those beloved features, she sent it 
to her daughter, imagining it would have the same ef- 
fect upon her ; telling her in her letter, ' Look upon 
that, and it will comfort you in your sufferings. ' 

To the latest period of her life, the sight of an old 
man affected her, because it reminded her of her father; 
and the lavishness with which she gave her sympathy 
and her purse to the distresses of the aged, proved the 
fervor of her filial recollections. 

Though Madame de Stael's thoughts had always been 
busy with the world, she was never destitute of relig- 
ious sensibility. Conscious as she was of her intellec- 
tual strength, she did not attempt to wrestle with the 
mysteries of God. Her beautiful mind inclined rather 
to reverence and superstition than to unbelief. No 
doubt, religion was with her more a matter of feeling, 



MADAME DE STAEL. 59 

than of faith ; but she respected the feeling, and never 
suffered the pride of reason to expel it from her heart. 
There is something beautifully pathetic in the exclama- 
tion that burst from her, when her little daughter was 
dangerously ill at Frankfort : « Oh what would become 
of a mother, trembling for the life of her child, if it 
were not for prayer ! ' 

Her father's death gave a more permanent influence 
to such feelings. Her character became less volcanic, 
while it lost nothing of its power. 

Anxious to be to her children what he had been to 
her, she spared no pains to impress them with what was 
excellent in his character. She frequently read with 
them moral and religious books. The writings of Fen- 
elon afforded her great consolation and delight ; and 
during the last years of her life, the ' Imitation of Jesus 
Christ,' by Thomas a Kempis, was her favorite volume. 
She was a most affectionate and devoted mother, and 
singularly beloved by her children. On this subject we 
have the testimony of her daughter, the Duchess de 
Broglie, who in talent and character is said to be wor- 
thy of her high descent. She says, ' My mother at- 
tached great importance to our happiness in childhood, 
and affectionately shared all our little griefs. When I 
was twelve years old, she used to talk to me as to an e- 
qual ; and nothing gave me such delight as half an 
hour's intimate conversation with her. It elevated me 
at once, gave me new life, and inspired me with courage 
in all my studies. She herself heard my lessons every 
day ; she would not procure a governess, even in the 
midst of her greatest troubles. She taught us to love 
and pity her, without ever diminishing our reverence. 



60 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Never was there a mother who at once inspired so much 
confidence, and so much respect. 

During the life-time of M. Necker, Madame de Stael 
remained in childish ignorance of all the common affairs 
of life. She was in the habit of applying to him for ad- 
vice about everything, even her dress. The unavoida- 
ble result was that she was very improvident. Her fath- 
er used to compare her to a savage, who would sell his 
hut in the morning, without thinking what would become 
of him at night. 

When her guide and support was taken from her, no 
wonder that she felt as if it would be absolutely impossi- 
ble for her to do anything without him. For a short 
time she gave herself up to the most discouraging fan- 
cies. She thought her fortune would be wasted, her 
children would not be educated, her servants would not 
obey her, — in short, that every thing would go wrong. ' 
But her anxiety to do every thing as he would have 
done it, gave her a motive for exertion, and inspired her 
with strength. She administered upon his estate with 
remarkable ability, and arranged her affairs with a most 
scrupulous regard to the future interests of her children. 

Her first literary employment after the death of her 
father was a tribute to his memory. ' She collected his 
MSS. and published them, accompanied with a most 
eloquent and interesting memoir, full of the first deep 
impressions of her sorrow.' M. Constant, the celebra- 
ted statesman and writer, has said of this preface, ' Per- 
haps I deceive myself; but those pages appear to me 
more lively to lead one to a true knowledge of her cha- 
racter, and to endear her to those who knew her not, 
than her most eloquent writings on any other subject ■ 



MADAME DE STAEL. 61 

for her whole mind and heart are there displayed. The 
delicacy of her perceptions, the astonishing variety of 
her thought, the ardor of her eloquence, the weight of 
her judgment, the reality of her enthusiasm, her love 
of liberty and justice, her passionate sensibility, the 
melancholy which often marked even her purely liter- 
ary writings ; — all these are concentrated here, to ex- 
press a single feeling, to call forth the sympathy of oth- 
ers in a single sentiment. Nowhere else has she treat- 
ed a subject with all the resources of her intellect, all 
the depth of her feeling, and without being diverted by 
a single thought of a less absorbing nature.' 

When this occupation was finished, her desolate heart 
fed upon its own feelings, until she could no longer en- 
dure the melancholy associations inspired by everything 
around her. 

Her health as well as her spirits sunk rapidly under 
the oppression of grief. Her friends advised new scenes 
and change of climate. Paris was still closed against 
her ; though M. Necker, with his dying hand, had writ- 
ten to assure Bonaparte that his daughter had no share 
in his political pamphlet, and to beseech that her sen- 
tence of exile might be repealed after his death. 

Thus situated, her thoughts turned toward Italy. Sis- 
mondi accompanied her in this journey. They arrived 
just when the fresh glory of a southern spring mantled 
the earth and the heavens. She found a renovating in- 
fluence in the beautiful sky and the balmy climate of 
this lovely land, which she, with touching superstition, 
ascribed to the intercession of her father. ' She passed 
more than a year in Italy ; visiting Milan, Venice, Flo- 
4* 



62 MADAME DE STAEL. 

rence, Rome, Naples, and other more inconsiderable cit- 
ies, with lively interest and great minuteness of obser- 
vation. The impression produced by her talent and 
character is still fresh in the memories of those who 
saw her.' < 

She returned to Switzerland in the summer of 1805, 
and passed a year among her friends at Coppet and Ge- 
neva ; during this period she began Corinna, the splen- 
did record which she has left the world of her visit to 
Italy. This work was published in 1812, and perhaps 
obtained more extensive and immediate fame than any- 
thing she ever wrote. It was received with one 
burst of applause by all the literati of Europe. Mr. 
Jeffrey, in his review of it, pronounced Madame de Sta- 
el ' the greatest writer in France, after the time of Vol- 
taire and Rousseau ; and the greatest female writer of 
any age or country.' 

Like Rousseau and Byron, Madame de Stael wrote 
from the impulses of her own heart, and threw some- 
thing of herself into all her fictions. In Corinna, ' a 
child of the sun,' all genius and sensibility, forever de- 
parting from the line marked out by custom, and mourn- 
ing over her waywardness as if it were guilt, we at 
once recognise Madame de Stael herself, with all her 
sweeping energies and irresistible inspiration. This 
book is characterized in an eminent degree by Madame 
de Stael's peculiar excellences, grandeur and pathos. 
As a national painting it is more fascinating than as a 
romance : Italy, in all the freshness of its present beau- 
ty, and the magnificence of its glorious recollections, 
is perfectly embalmed by her genius. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 63 

Her eldest son, Augustus, Baron de Stael, was at 
this time in Paris, pursuing his studies preparatory to 
entering the Polytechnic school ; and after the comple- 
tion of Corinna, Madame de Stael, in order to be as 
near him as possible, went to reside at Auxerre, and af- 
terward at Rouen, from whence she could daily send to 
Paris. She led a very retired life, and was extremely 
prudent about intermeddling with politics ; those, who 
had anything to hope or fear from the Emperor, did not 
dare to maintain any intercourse with her ; and of 
course she was not thronged with visiters, in those days 
of despotism and servility ; all she wished, was liberty 
to superintend the publication of Corinna, and to watch 
over the education of her son. 

But all this moderation and caution did not satisfy 
Bonaparte. He wanted to interdict her writing any- 
thing, even if it were, like Corinna, totally unconnected 
with politics. She was again banished from France ; 
and, by a sad coincidence, she received the order on 
the ninth of April, the anniversary of her father's 
death. When she returned to Coppet, all her move- 
ments were watched by the spies of government, so that 
existence became a complete state of bondage. To use 
her own words, she was ' tormented in all the interests 
and relations of life and on all the sensible points of 
her character.' She still had warm and devoted 
friends, who could not be withdrawn from her by mo- 
tives of interest, or fear ; but with all the consolations 
of fame and friendship, it was sufficiently inconvenient 
and harassing to be thus fettered and annoyed. 

As a means of employing her mind, which, ever since 
the death of her father, had been strongly prone to in- 



64 MADAME DESTAEL. 

dulge in images of gloom and terror, Madame de Stael in- 
dustriously continued the study of German literature and 
philosophy. Her acquaintance with M. de Schlegel and 
3YI. Villers (the author of an admirable book on the Refor- 
mation, which obtained the prize from the French Acad- 
emy,) afforded her remarkable facilities for perfecting 
herself in the German language. Her first visit had 
brought her into delightful companionship with most of 
the great minds in North Germany ; but she deemed 
it necessary to visit the South, before she completed a 
work, which she had long had in contemplation. In 
company with her beautiful friend, Madame Recamier, 
she passed the winter of 1807 at Vienna, receiving the 
same flattering distinctions from the great and the gift- 
ed, which had everywhere attended her footsteps. 

She began her celebrated book on Germany in the 
country itself, and surrounded by every facility for 
giving a correct picture of its literature, manners, and 
national character ; as we have just stated, she made 
a second visit, for the purpose of more thorough investi- 
gation ; and she devoted yet two more years to it after 
her return ; making a period of about six years from 
the time of its commencement to its final completion. 
It is true, this arduous labor was not continued, unin- 
terruptedly : she had, in the meanwhile, made her visit 
to Italy, and written Corinna ; and while she was em- 
ployed with her- great work on Germany, she composed 
and played at Coppet the greater part of the little pie- 
ces, which are now collected in the sixteenth volume of 
her works, under the title of Dramatic Essays. At the 
beginning of the summer of 1810, she finished the three 
volumes of Germany, and went to reside just without 



MADAME BE STAEL. 65 

forty leagues from Paris, in order to superintend its pub- 
lication. She says, ' I fixed myself at a farm called 
Fossi, which a generous friend lent me. The house 
was inhabited by a Vendean soldier, who certainly did 
not keep it in the nicest order, but who had a loyal 
good-nature that made everything easy, and an origi- 
nality of character that was very amusing. Scarcely 
had we arrived, when an Italian musician, whom I had 
with me to give lessons to my daughter, began playing 
upon the guitar ; and Madame Recamier's sweet voice 
accompanied my daughter upon the harp. The peasants 
collected round the windows, astonished to hear this 
colony of troubadours, which had come to enliven the 
solitude of their master. Certainly this intimate assem- 
blage, this solitary residence, this agreeable occupation, 
did no harm to any one. We had imagined the idea of 
sitting round a green table after dinner, and writing 
letters to each other instead of conversing. These va- 
ried and multiplied tSles-d-tetes amused us so much, 
that we were impatient to get from table, where we were 
talking, in order to go and write to one another. When 
any strangers came in, we could not bear the interrup- 
tion of our habits ; and our penny-post always went its 
round. The inhabitants of the neighboring town were 
somewhat astonished at these new manners, and looked 
upon them as pedantic ; though in fact, it was merely 
a resource against the monotony of solitude. One day 
a gentleman, who had never thought of anything in his 
life but hunting, came to take my boys with him into 
the woods ; he remained some time seated at our ac- 
tive, but silent table. Madame Recamier wrote a little 
note to this jolly sportsman, in order that he might not 



66 MADAME DE STAEL. 

be too much a stranger to the circle in which he wag 
placed. He excused himself from receiving it, assuring 
us that he never could read writing by daylight. We 
afterward laughed not a little at the disappointment our 
beautiful friend had met with in her benevolent coquet- 
ry ; and thought that a billet from her hand Would not 
often have met such a fate. Our life passed in this quiet 
manner ; and, if I may judge by myself, none of us 
found it burdensome. 

1 I wished to go and see the Opera of Cinderella rep* 
resented at a paltry provincial theatre atBlois. Coming 
out of the theatre on foot, the people followed me in 
crowds, more from curiosity to see the woman Bona- 
parte had exiled, than from any other motive. This 
kind of celebrity, which I owed to misfortune much 
more than to talent, displeased the minister of police* 
who wrote to the Prefect of Loire that I was surround- 
ed by a court. " Certainly," said I to the Prefect, " it 
is not power that gives me a court." 

£ On the 23d of September, I corrected the last proof 
of Germany ; after six years' labor, I felt great delight 
in writing the word end. I made a list of one hundred 
persons to whom I wished to send copies in different 
parts of Europe.' The work passed the censorship pre- 
scribed by law, and Madame de Stael, supposing every* 
thing was satisfactorily arranged, went with her family 
to visit her friend M. de Montmorency, at his residence 
about five leagues from Blois. This gentleman could 
claim the oldest hereditary rank of any nobleman in 
France ; being able to trace back his pedigree, through 
a long line of glorious ancestry, to the first Baron of 
Christendom, in the time of Charlemagne, Madame 



MADAME BE STAEL. 6? 

de Stael says, i He was a pious man, only occupied in 
this world with making himself fit for heaven ; in his 
conversation with me, he never paid any attention to 
the affairs of the day, hut only sought to do good to my 
soul.' 

Madame de Stael, after having passed a delightful 
day amid the magnificent forests and historical recollec- 
tions of this ancient castle, retired to rest. In the night) 
M. de Montmorency was awakened by the arrival of 
Augustus, Baron de Stael, who came to inform him that 
his mother's book on Germany was likely to be destroy- 
ed, in consequence of a new edict, which had very much 
the appearance of being made on purpose for the occa- 
sion. Her son, as soon as he had done his errand, left 
M. de Montmorency to soften the blow as much as pos- 
sible, but to urge his mother to return, immediately after 
she had taken breakfast ; he himself went back before 
day-light to see that her papers were not seized by the 
imperial police. Luckily, the proof-sheets of her valu- 
able work were saved. Some further notes on Germa- 
ny she had with her in a small portable desk in the car- 
riage. As they drew near her habitation, she gave the 
desk to her youngest son, who jumped over a Wall, and 
carried it into the house through the garden. Miss 
Randall, an English lady, an excellent and much belov- 
ed friend, came to meet her on the road, to console her 
as much as she could under this great disappointment, 
A file of soldiers were sent to her publisher's, to destroy 
every sheet of the ten thousand copies that had been 
printed. She was required to give up her MSS. and 
quit France in twenty-four hours. In her Ten Years' 
Exile, Madame de Stael drily remarks, ' It was the 



68 MADAME DE STAEL. 

custom of Bonaparte to order conscripts and women to 
be in readiness to quit France in twenty-four hours.' 

She had given up some rough notes of her work to 
the police, but the spies of government had done their 
duty so well, that they knew there was a copy saved ; 
they could tell the exact number of proof-sheets that 
had been sent to her by the publisher, and the exact 
number she had returned. She did not pretend to deny 
the fact ; but she told them she had placed the copy out 
of her hands, and that she neither could nor would put 
it in their power. 

The severity used on this occasion was as unneces- 
sary as it was cruel; ' for her book on Germany contain- 
ed nothing to give offence to the government, Indeed 
the only fault pretended to be found with it was that 
it was purely literary, and contained no mention of the 
Emperor or his wars in that country.' 

The minister t)f police gave out, ' in corsair terms f 
that if Madame de Stael, on her return to Coppet should 
venture one foot within forty leagues of Paris, she was 
a good prize.'' When arrived at Coppet, she received 
express orders not to go more than fourjeagues from 
her own house ; and this was enforced with so much 
rigor, that having one day accidentally extended her 
ride a little beyond her limits, the military police were 
sent full speed to bring her back. 

If Napoleon felt flattered that all the sovereigns of 
Europe were obliged to combine to keep one man on a 
barren island, Madame de Stael might well consider it 
no small compliment for one woman to be able to inspire 
with fear the mighty troubler of the world's peace. The 
fact was f Bonaparte dreaded an epigram, pointed against 



MADAME X> E STAEL. 69 

himself, more than he dreaded ' infernal machines.' 
When he was told that no woman, however talented, 
could shake the foundation of his power, he replied, 
* Madame de Stael carries a quiver full of arrows, that 
would hit a man if he were seated on a rainbow.' 

She was often informed, by the creatures of govern- 
ment that she might easily put an end to the inconven- 
iences she suffered, by publishing a few pages in praise 
of the emperor. But Madame de Sta|l, though her exile 
had cost her many hours of depression and anxiety, was 
too noble thus to bow the knee to a tyrant, whom her 
heart disliked, and her conscience disapproved, 

When the prefect of Geneva urged her to celebrate 
in verse the birth of the king of Rome, she told him 
that if she did such a ridiculous thing, she should con- 
fine herself to wishing him a good nurse. 

M. de Schlegel, who for eight years had been the tu- 
tor of her sons, was compelled to leave Switzerland. 
The best pretence the prefect could invent, on the spur 
of the occasion, was, that he was not French in his Teel- 
ing, because he preferred the Phedra of Euripides to 
the Phedra of Racine. The real fact was, Bonaparte 
knew that his animated conversation cheered her soli- 
tude, and that to deprive her of society was almost to 
deprive her of life. 

Few in this selfish world would visit one, who thus 
1 carried about with her the contagion of misfortune ; ' 
and she was even fearful of writing to her friends, lest 
she should in some way implicate them in her own dif- 
ficulties. In the midst of these perplexities, her true 
friend, M. de Montmorency, came to make her a visit ; 
she told him such a proof of friendship would offend the 



70 MADAME DE STAEL. 

emperor ; but he felt safe in the consciousness of a life 
entirely secluded from any connexion with public af- 
fairs. The day after his arrival, they rode to Fribourg, 
to see a convent of nuns, of the dismal order of La 
Trappe. She says, * We reached the convent in the 
midst of a severe shower, after having been obliged to 
come nearly a mile on foot. I rung the bell at the gate 
of the cloister ; a nun appeared behind the lattice open- 
ing, through which the portress may speak to strangers. 
" What do you want ?" said she, in a voice without 
modulation, such as we might suppose that of a ghost. 
" I should like to see the interior of the convent." 
" That is impossible," she replied. " But I am very 
wet, and want to dry my dress." She immediately 
touched a spring, which opened the door of an outer 
apartment, in which I was allowed to rest myself ; but 
no living creature appeared. In a few minutes, impa- 
tient at not being able to penetrate the interior of the 
convent, after my long walk, I rung again. The same 
person re-appeared. I asked her if females were never 
admitted into the convent. She answered, " Only when 
they had the intention of becoming nuns." 

1 " But," said I, " how can I tell whether I should like 
to remain in your house, if I am not permitted to see 
it !" " Oh, that is quite useless," she replied, " I am 
very sure that you have no vocation for our state ;" and 
with these words she immediately shut her wicket.' 
Madame de Stael says she knows not how this nun dis- 
covered her worldly disposition, unless it were by her 
quick manner of speaking, so different from their own. 
Those who look at Madame de Stael's portrait, will not 
wonder at the nun's penetration : it needs but a single 



MADAME DE STAEL. 71 

glance at he'r bright dark eye, through which one can 
look so clearly into the depths of an ardent and busy 
soul, to be convinced that she was not made for the sol- 
itude and austerities of La Trappe. 

Being disappointed in getting a sight of the nuns, 
Madame de. Stael proposed to her son and M. de Mont- 
morency to go to the famous cascade of Bex, where the 
water falls from a very lofty mountain. This being 
just within the French territory, she, without being 
aware of it, infringed upon her sentence of exile. The 
prefect blamed her very much, and made a great merit 
of not informing the Emperor that she had been in 
France. She says she might have told him, in the 
words of La Fontaine's fable, ' I grazed of this meadow 
the breadth of my tongue.' Bonaparte, finding that 
Madame de Stael wisely resolved to be as happy as she 
could, determined to make her home a solitude, by for- 
bidding all persons to visit her. 

Four days after M. de Montmorency arrived at Cop- 
pet, he was banished from France ; for no other crime 
than having dared to offer the consolation of his society 
to one, who had been his intimate friend for more than 
twenty years, and by whose assistance he had escaped 
from the dangers of the Revolution. 

Madame Recamier, being at that time on her way to 
the waters of Aix in Savoy, sent her friend word that 
she should stop at Coppet. Madame de Stael des- 
patched a courier to beseech 'her not to come ; and 
she wept bitterly, to think that her charming friend 
was so near her, without the possibility of obtaining 
an interview : but Madame Recamier, conscious that 
she had never meddled with politics, was resolved not 



72 MADAME DE STAEL. 

to pass by Coppet without seeing her. Instead of the 
joy that had always welcomed her arrival, she was re- 
ceived with a torrent of tears. She staid only one 
night ; but, as Madame de Stael had feared* the sen- 
tence of exile smote her also. ' Thus regardless,' says 
she, * did the chief of the French people, co renowned 
for their gallantry, show himself tow r ard the most beau- 
tiful woman in Paris. In one day he smote virtue and 
distinguished rank in M. de Montmorency, beauty in 
Madame Recamier, and, if I dare say it, the reputation 
of high talent in myself.' 

Not only Frenchmen, but foreigners, who wished to 
visit a writer of so much celebrity, were informed that 
they must not enter her house. The minister of police 
said he would have a soldier's guard mounted at the 
bottom of the avenue, to arrest whoever attempted to go 
to Coppet. 

Every courier brought tidings of some friend exiled 
for having dared to keep up a correspondence with her ; 
even her sons were forbidden to enter France, without 
a new permission from the police. In this cruel situa- 
tion, Madame de Stael could only weep for those friends, 
who forsook her, and tremble for those, who had the 
courage to remain faithful. But nothing could force 
from her one line of flattery to the Emperor. 

Her friends urged her to go beyond the power of her 
enemy ; saying, ' If you remain, he will treat you as 
Elizabeth did Mary Stuart ; nineteen years of misery, 
and the catastrophe at last.' And she herself says, 
' Thus to carry about with me the contagion of calami- 
ty, to be a burden on the existence of my children, to 
fear to write to those I love, or even to mention their 



MADAME DE STAEL. 73 

names — this is a situation from which it is necessary 
to escape, or die.' 

But she hesitated, and lingered long before she deter- 
mined to leave the tomb of her father, where she daily- 
offered up her prayers for support and consolation. Be- 
sides, a new feeling had at this period gained dominion 
over her. At Geneva, she had become acquainted with 
Albert- Jean-Michel de Rocca, a young officer, just re- 
turned wounded from the war of the Spanish peninsula, 
who feeble health, united with the accounts given of 
his brilliant courage, had inspired general interest. Ma- 
dame de Stael visited him, as a stranger who needed 
the soothing voice of kindness and compassion. The 
first words she uttered made him her ardent lover ; he 
talked of her incessantly. His friends represented to 
him the extreme improbability of gaining the affections 
of suck a woman ; he replied, ( Je V aimer ai tellement, 
qu'elle finira par m' aimer.' (1 will love her so, that 
she will finish by loving me.) 

M. de Rocca had great elevation of character ; his 
conversation was highly poetic ; his affections ardent ; 
and his style of writing animated and graceful.^ His 
sentiments toward her were of the most romantic and 
chivalrous kind, — unbounded admiration was softened 
by extreme tenderness ; her desolate heart had lost the 
guardian and support of early life ; his state of health 
excited her pity ; and more than all, he offered to real- 

* In 1803 he published Campagne de Walclieren et d'Jlnvers. In 1814 ho 
published a very interesting book, which was reprinted in 1817, called Mem- 
oire sur la Guerre des Frangaise en Espagne. He left a novel in MS. called 
Le Mai da Pays. I do not know whether it was ever printed. 

5 



74 MADAME D£ STAEL. 

ize the dream she had always so fondly indulged— a 
marriage of love. 

A strong and enduring attachment sprung up between 
them, which, in 1811, resulted in a private wedding. 
He was twenty-three, and she was forty-five years old. 

The world, of course, will he disposed to smile at this 
union ; but for myself, I would much more willingly 
forget her first marriage than her last. One originated 
in policy, and made her miserable ; the other was sanc- 
tioned only by her own warm heart, and made her hap- 
py. In all things depending on themselves, the sun- 
shine of their domestic love seems to have been with- 
out a shadow. 

The precarious state of M. de Rocca's health was a 
source of sorrow, which she felt with a keenness propor- 
tioned to the susceptibility of her character. She watch- 
ed over him with a patient, persevering attention, not a 
little remarkable in one to whom variety and activity 
were so necessary. When he was thought to be in dan- 
ger, her anguish knew no bounds. She compared her- 
self to Marshal Ney, when he expected sentence of 
death from one moment to another. In relation to this 
romantic affair, Madame de Stael was guilty of the 
greatest weakness of her whole life. Governed partly 
by ' a timidity, which feared ' the world's dread laugh,' 
and partly by a proud reluctance to relinquish the name 
she had made so glorious throughout Europe, she con- 
cealed the marriage from all bat her children, and her 
most intimate friends. On every account this is to be 
deeply regretted. It makes us blush for an instance of 
silly vanity in one so truly great ; and what is worse, 
the embarrassing situation in which she thus placed her- 



MADAME D E STAEL. 75 

self, laid her very open to the malice of her enemies, 
and the suspicions of the world. Scandalous stories 
promulgated by those, who either misunderstood, or wil- 
fully misrepresented her character, are even now re- 
peated, though clearly proved to be false, by those who 
had the very best opportunities of observing her life. 

In her preference for the conversation of gentlemen, 
Madame de Stael had ever been as perfectly undisguis- 
ed, as she was with regard to all her other tastes and 
opinions ; it was therefore natural that she should not 
be a general favorite with her own sex, though she 
found among women many of her most zealous and at- 
tached friends. 

The intellectual sympathy, which produced so many 
delightful friendships between herself and distinguished 
men of all countries, was naturally attributed, by ladies 
of inferior gifts, to a source less innocent ; and to this 
petty malice was added strong political animosity, dark, 
rancorous, unprincipled and unforgiving. They even 
tried to make a crime of her residence in England, with 
Narbonne and Talleyrand — as if those days of terror, 
when every man, woman, and child in France slept un- 
der the guillotine, was a time for even the most scrupu- 
lous to adhere to the laws of etiquette. 

After her marriage with M. de Rocca, Madame de 
Stael, happy in the retirement of her now cheerful home, 
and finding consolation in the warm affection of her chil- 
dren, indulged hopes that the government would leave 
her in peace. But Bonaparte, who no doubt heard some 
sort of account of the new attachment, which had given 
a fresh charm to her existence, caused her to be threat- 
ened with perpetual imprisonment 



76 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Unable any longer to endure this system of vexation, 
she asked leave to live in Italy, promising not to publish 
a single line of any kind ; and with something of becom- 
ing pride, she reminded the officers of government that 
it was the author of Corinna, who asked no other privi- 
lege than to live and die in Rome. But notwithstand- 
ing the strong claim which this beautiful work gave her 
to the admiration and indulgence of her countrymen^ 
that request was refused. 

Napoleon, in one of his conversations at St Helena? 
excuses his uninterrupted persecution of Madame de 
Stael, by saying, that * she was an ambitious, intriguing 
woman, who would at any time have thrown her friends 
into the sea, for the sake of exercising her energy in 
saving them.' 

No doubt there was much truth in this accusation. 
From her earliest childhood, Madame de Stael had 
breathed the atmosphere of politics ; and she lived at 
an exciting period, when an active mind could scarcely 
forbear taking great interest in public affairs/^ She 
was an avowed enemy to the imperial government ; but, 
though she spoke her mind freely, we do not hear of her 
as engaged in any conspiracies, or even attempting to 
form a paiiy. 

At her Swiss retreat, when he was omnipotent in 
France, and she was powerless, it certainly was safe to 
leave her in the peaceful enjoyment of such social plea- 

* Bonaparte once at a party placed himself directly before a witty 
and beautiful lady, and said very abruptly, ' Madame, I don't like 
that women should meddle with politics.'. . . .' You are very right, Gen- 
eral,' she replied ; ' but in a country where women are beheaded, it is 
aatural they should desire to know the reason.' 



MADAMS 55 E ST A EL. W 

Stttes as were within her reach. The banishment of 
M. de Schlegel, M. de Montmorency, and Madame Re* 
camier, his refusal to allow Madame de Stael to pass 
into Italy, and his opposition to her visiting England-, 
seem much more like personal dislike and irritation a* 
gainst one, Whom he could not compel to flatter him> 
than they do like political precaution. 

Whatever were Bonaparte's motives and intentions-, 
her friends thought it prudent to urge immediate flight ; 
and she herself felt the necessity of it But month af* 
ter month passed away, during which time she was dis- 
tracted with the most painful perplexity between her 
fears of a prison, and her dread of becoming a fugitive 
on the face of the earth. She says 5 * I sometimes con* 
suited all sorts of presages, in hopes I should be direct- 
ed what to 4o ; at other times I more wisely interroga- 
ted my .friends and myself on the propriety of my de- 
parture. I am sure, that I put the patience of my 
friends to a severe test by my eternal discussions^ and 
painful irresolution.' 

Two attempts were made to obtain passports for A* 
merica ; but, after compelling her to wait a long time> 
the government refused to give them. 

At one time she thought of going to Greece, by the 
route of Constantinople ; but she feared to expose her 
daughter to the perils of such a voyage. Her next ob- 
ject was to reach England through the circuitous route 
of Russia and Sweden ; but in this great undertaking 
her heart failed her. Having a bold imagination, and 
a timid character, she conjured up the phantoms of ten 
thousand dangers. She was afraid of robbers, of arrest, 
5* 



79 MADAME D£ S T A j£ L * 

of prisons, — and more than all, she was afraid of being 
advertised, in the newspapers, with all the scandalous 
falsehoods her enemies might think proper to invent. 
She said truly that she had to contend with an fr enemy 
with a million of soldiers, millions of revenue, all the 
prisons of Europe, kings fox his jailers, and the press 
for his mouth-piece.' But the time at last came when 
the pressure of, circumstances would no longer admik 
of delay. Bonaparte was preparing for his Russian 
campaign, and she must either precede the French troops 
or abandon her project entirely. 

The 15th of May, 1812, was at last fixed upon for 
departure ; and all the necessary arrangements were 
made with profound secrecy. When the day arrived* 
the uncertainty she felt seemed to her like a conscious-* 
ness of being about to do something wrong ; she thought 
she ought to yield herself up to such events as Provi- 
dence ordained, and that those pious men were in the 
right, who always scrupled to follow an impulse origin-* 
ating in their own free will. She says, ' Agitated by" 
these conflicting feelings, I wandered over the park at 
Coppet j I seated myself in all the places where my fa- 
ther had been accustomed to repose himself, and con^ 
template nature ; I looked once moTe upon the beauties 
of water and verdure, which we had so often admired 
together ; I bade them adieu, and recommended myself 
to their sweet influences. The monument that incloses 
the ashes of my father and my mother, and in which, 
if God permits, my own will be deposited, was one of 
the principal causes of regret I felt at banishing myself 
from the home of my childhood ; but on approaching it, 
I almost always found strength, that seemed to me tc 



MADAME DE STAEL. 79 

come from heaven. I passed an hour in prayer before 
the iron gate, which inclosed the mortal remains of the 
noblest of human beings ; and my soul was convinced 
of the necessity of departure. I went once more to 
look at my father's study, where his easy-chair, his ta* 
ble, and his papers, remained as he had left them ; I 
kissed each venerated mark ; I took the cloak, which 
till then I had ordered to be left upon his chair, and car- 
ried it away with me, that I might wrap myself up in 
it, should the messenger of death approach me. When 
these adieus were terminated, I avoided as much as I 
could all other farewells. I found it less painful to part 
from my friends by letters, which I took care they should 
not receive until several days after my departure. 

' On Saturday, the 23d of May, 1812, I got into my 
carriage, saying that I should return to dinner. I took 
no packet whatever ; I and my daughter had only our 
fans. My son and M. de Rocca carried in their pockets 
enough to defray the expenses of several days' journey. 
On leaving the chateau, which had become to me like 
an old and valued friend, I nearly fainted. My son 
took my hand, and said, ' Dear mother, remember you 
are on your Way to England.' Though nearly two 
thousand leagues from that goal, to which the usual 
road would have so speedily conducted me, I felt revived 
by his words ; every step at least brought me something 
nearer to it. When I had proceeded a few leagues, I 
sent back one of my servants to apprize my establish- 
ment that I should not return until the next clay. I con- 
tinued travelling night and day as far as a farm-house 
beyond Berne, where I had agreed to meet M. de Schle- 
gel, who had kindly offered to accompany me. Here I 



80 MADAME D E STAEL* 

was obliged to leave my eldest son, who for fourteen* 
years had been educated by my father, and whose fea- 
tures strongly reminded me of him. Again my cour* 
age abandoned me. I thought of Switzerland, so tran* 
quil, and so beautiful ; I thought of her inhabitants* 
who, though they had lost political independence, knew 
how to be free by their virtues ; and it seemed to me as 
if every thing told me I ought not to go. I had not yet 
crossed the barrier— there was still a possibility of re- 
turning. But if I went back, I knew another escape 
would be impossible ; and I felt a sort of shame at the 
idea of renewing such solemn farewells. I knew not 
what would have become of me, if this uncertainty had 
lasted much longer. My children decided me ; espe- 
cially my daughter, who was then scarcely fourteen 
years old. I committed myself to her, as if the voice 
of God had spoken by the mouth of a child. My son 
took his leave ; and when he was out of sight, I could 
say with Lord Russell, ' the bitterness of death is past'/ 
The young Baron de Stael had been obliged to leave 
his mother, in order to attend to the interests of her for- 
tune, and to obtain passports to go through Austria, one 
of whose princesses was then the wife of Napoleon* 
Everything depended on obtaining these passports un- 
der some name, that would not attract the attention of 
the police. If they were refused, Madame de Stael 
would be arrested, and the rigors of exile made more 
intolerable than ever. It was a decisive step, and one 
that caused her devoted son the most painful anxiety. 
Finally, he concluded to act, as he judiciously observes 
all honest men had better do in their intercourse with 
each other, — he threw himself directly upon the gener- 



MADAME DE STAEL. 81 

osity of the Austrian ambassador : and fortunately he 
had to deal with an honorable man, who made no hesi- 
tation in granting his request. 

A few days after, Madame de Stael's younger son, with 
her servants, wardrobe, and travelling carriage, set out 
from Coppet, to meet his mother at Vienna. The whole 
had been managed with such secrecy, and the police had 
become so accustomed to her quiet way of life, that no 
suspicions were excited, until this second removal took 
place. The gens-d'armes were instantly on the alert ; 
but Madame de Stael had too much the start of them, 
and had travelled too swiftly to be overtaken. In des- 
cribing her flight, she says, ' The moment I most dread- 
ed was the passage from Bavaria to Austria ; for it was 
there a courier might precede me, and forbid me to pass. 
But notwithstanding my apprehensions, my health had 
been so-much injured by anxiety and fatigue, that I could 
no longer travel all night. I, however, flattered myself 
that I should arrive without impediment; when, just as 
my fears were vanishing, as we approached the boun- 
dary line, a man in the inn, at Saltzburg, told M. de 
Schlegel that a French courier had been to inquire for 
a carriage coming from Inspruck, with a lady and a 
young girl ; and had left word that he would return to 
get intelligence of them. I became pale with terror ; 
and M. de Schlegel was very much alarmed ; especial- 
ly as he found by inquiry that the courier had been 
waiting for me at the Austrian frontier, and not finding 
me there, had returned to meet me. This was just 
what I had dreaded before my departure, and through 
the whole journey. I determined, on the spur of the 
moment, to leave M. de Schlegel and my daughter at 



82 MADAME DESTAE'L. 

the inn, and to go on foot into the streets of the town, to 
take my chance at the first house whose master, or mis- 
tress, had a physiognomy that pleased me. I would re- 
main in this asylum a few days ; during this time, M. 
de Schlegel and my daughter might say that they were 
going to rejoin me in Austria ; and I would afterward 
leave Saltzburg, disguised as a peasant. Hazardous as 
this resource appeared, no other remained ; and I was 
just preparing for the task, with fear and trembling, 
when who should enter my apartment but this dreaded 
courier, who was no other than — M. de Rocca ! 

' He had been obliged to return to Geneva to transact 
some business, and now came to rejoin me. He had 
disguised himself as a courier, in order to take advan- 
tage of the terror which the name inspired, and to obtain 
horses more quickly. He had hurried on to the Aus- 
trian frontier, to make himself sure that no one had pre- 
ceded, or announced me ; he had returned to assure me 
that I had nothing to fear, and to get upon the box of my 
carriage until we had passed that dreaded frontier, which 
seemed to me the last of my dangers. In this manner 
were my fears changed to gratitude, joy, and confi- 
dence.' 

At Vienna, Madame de Stael was obliged to wait 
some time for a Russian passport. The first ten days 
were spent very pleasantly, and her friends there assur- 
ed her that she might rest in perfect security. At the 
end of that time, the Austrian police probably received 
directions concerning her from Napoleon ; for they 
placed a guard at the gate of her house, and, whether 
she walked or rode, she was followed by spies. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 83 

She was at this time in a state of great uneasiness ; 
for, unless her Russian passport came speedily, the 
progress of the war would prevent her from passing into 
that country ; and she dared not stay in Vienna a day 
after the French ambassador, (who was then at Dres- 
den,) had returned. Again she thought of Constanti- 
nople. She tried to obtain two passports to leave Aus- 
tria, either by Hungary or Gallicia, so that she might 
decide in favor of going to Petersburg or Constantino- 
ple, according to circumstances. She was told she 
might have her choice of passports, but that they could 
not enable her to go by two different frontiers without 
authority from the Committee of States. She says, 
' Europe seemed to her like one great net, in which 
travellers got entangled at every step.' 

She departed for Gallicia without her Russian pass- 
port ; airiend having promised to travel night and day to 
bring it to her, as soon as it arrived. At every step of 
her journey she encountered fresh difficulties from the 
police, all of which it would be tedious to relate. Pla- 
cards were put up in all the towns to keep a strict watch 
upon her as she passed through : this was the distinc- 
tion the Austrians conferred upon a woman, who had 
done so much to give foreigners a respect for German 
literature, and German character. 

In passing through Poland, Madame de Stael wished 
to rest a day or two at Lanzut, at the castle of the Po- 
lish Prince and Princess, Lubomirska, with whom she 
had been well acquainted in Geneva, and during her 
visit to Vienna. The captain of the police, jealous that 
she intended to excite the Poles to insurrection, sent a 
detachment to escort her into Lanzut, to follow her into 



84 MADAME DESTAEL. 

the castle, and not leave her until she quitted it. Ac- 
cordingly the officer stationed himself at the supper-table 
of the Prince, and in the evening took occasion to ob- 
serve to her son that he had orders to pass the night in 
her apartment, to prevent her holding communication 
with any one ; but that, out of respect to her, he should 
not do it. ' You may as well say that you will not do 
it, out of respect to yourself,' replied the young man : 
1 for if you dare to set foot within my mother's apart- 
ment, I will assuredly throw you out of the window.' 

The escort of the police was particularly painful to' 
Madame de Stael at this point of her journey. A de- 
scription of M. de Rocca had been sent along the road, 
with orders to arrest him as a French officer ; although 
he had resigned his commission, and was disabled oy 
his wound from doing military service. Had he been 
arrested, the forfeiture of his life would have been the 
consequence. He had therefore been obliged to sepa- 
rate from his wife, at a time when he felt most anxious 
to protect her ; and to travel alone under a borrowed 
name. It had been arranged that they should meet at 
Lanzut, from which place they hoped to be able to pass 
safely into Russia. Having arrived there before her, and 
not in the least suspecting that she would be guarded by 
the police, he eagerly came out to meet her, full of joy 
and confidence. The danger, to which he thus uncon- 
sciously exposed himself, made Madame de Stael pale 
with agony. She had scarcely time to give him an ear- 
nest signal to turn back. Had it not been for the gener- 
ous presence of mind of a Polish gentleman, M. de Rocca 
would have been recognised and arrested. 



MADAME DB STAEL. 85 

The fugitive experienced the greatest friendship and 
hospitality from the Prince and Princess Lubormirska ; 
but notwithstanding their urgent entreaties, she would 
not consent to encumber their house with such atten- 
dants as chose to follow her. After one night's rest, she 
departed for Russia, which she entered on the 14th of 
July. As she passed the boundary-line, she made a 
solemn oath never again to set foot in a country subject- 
ed in any degree to the Emperor Napoleon ; though she 
says she felt some sad misgivings that the oath would 
never allow her to revisit her own beautiful and belov- 
ed France. 

Madame de Stael staid but a brief space in Moscow ; 
the flames and the French army followed close upon 
her footsteps. 

At Petersburg she had several interviews with the 
Emperor Alexander, whose affairs were then at a most 
alarming crisis.^ She remarks of Russia, ' The coun- 
try appeared to me like an image of infinite space, and 
as if it would require an eternity to traverse it. The 
Sclavonian language is singularly echoing ; there is 
something metallic about it ; you would imagine you 
heard a bell striking, when the Russians pronounce cer- 
tain letters of their alphabet.' 

The nobility of Petersburg vied with each other in 
the attentions bestowed on Madame de Stael. At a din- 
ner given in honor of her arrival, the following toast 
was proposed : ' Success to the arms of Russia against 

* In a conversation concerning the structure of governments, Mad- 
ame de Stael said to the Emperor, { Sire, you are yourself a constitu- 
tion for your country.' ' Then, madam, I am but a lucky accident,' 
was his wise reply to her delicate and comprehensive flattery. 



Ob MADAME DE 3TAEL. 

France.' The exile dearly loved her country, and her 
heart could not respond to the sentiment ; ' Not against 
France ! ' she exclaimed ; ' but against him who oppres- 
ses France.' The toast thus changed was repeated with 
great applause. 

Although Madame de Stael found much in Russia to 
interest her, and was every where received with distin- 
guished regard, she did not feel in perfect security ; she 
could not look on the magnificent edifices of that splen- 
did capital, without dismal forebodings, that he, whose 
power had overshadowed all the fair dwellings of Eu- 
rope, would come to darken them also. 

In September, she passed through Finland into Swe- 
den. In Stockholm she published a work against Sui- 
cide, written before her flight from Coppet. The object 
of this Treatise is to show that the natural and proper 
effect of affliction is to elevate and purify the soul, in- 
stead of driving it to despair. She is said to have been 
induced to make this publication by the fear that she 
had, in some of her former writings, evinced too much 
admiration for the Stoic ideas of courage. 

In Sweden, as in Russia, Madame de Stael was re- 
ceived with very marked respect. It was generally sup- 
posed that she exerted a powerful influence over Berna- 
dotte, to induce him to resist the encroachments of Na- 
poleon's ambition. If this be the case, she may be said 
to have fairly check-mated the Emperor with a king of 
his own making. Though Bernadotte had great respect 
for her opinions, she is said not to have been a favorite 
with him : he was himself fond of making eloquent 
speeches, and her conversation threw him into the 
shade. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 87 

Madame de Stael passed the winter of 1812 on the 

shores of the Baltic, and in the spring she sailed for 
England ; where she arrived in June, 1813. Although 
her dramatic style of manners, and the energy of her 
conversation, formed a striking contrast to the national 
reserve of the English, she was received with enthusi- 
astic admiration. Her genius, her fame, her escape 
from Bonaparte, and her intimate knowledge of the 
French Revolution, all combined to produce a prodigious 
sensation. ' In the immense crowds that collected to 
see her at the Marquis of Lansdowne's, and in the 
houses of the other principal nobility of London, the 
eagerness of curiosity broke through all restraint ; the 
first ladies in the kingdom stood on chairs and tables, 
to catch a glimpse of her dark and brilliant physiog- 
nomy.' 

Madame de Stael has left some admirable descrip- 
tions of English society, and of the impressions made 
upon her mind, when she first entered that powerful 
country. But the principal object of her visit was not 
to observe the intellectual wealth, or moral grandeur, of 
England. Through all her perils and wanderings she 
had saved a copy of her condemned book on Germany, 
and had brought it triumphantly to London, where it 
was published in October, 1813. 

Mrs. Jameson, writing of this work in 1834, says : 
" I do not think the Germans themselves judge it fairly. 
Some speak of it as eloquent, but superficial ; and a- 
mong these is Jean Paul. Others denounce it altogeth- 
er, as a work full of mistakes, and flippant, presumptu- 
ous criticism. Others again affect to speak of it, and of 
Madame de Stael herself, as things of another era, quite 



88 MADAME DE STAEL. 

gone by and forgotten. This appeared to me too ridic- 
ulous. They forget, or do not know, what ive know, 
that her De l'Allemagne was the first book which awak- 
ened in France and England a lively and general inter- 
est in German art and literature. It is now five-and- 
twenty years since it was published. The march of 
opinion, and criticism, and knowledge of every kind, 
has been so rapid, that much has become old, which was 
then new. But this does not detract from its merit. 
Madame de Stael, with her lively egotism and Parisian 
volubility, stunned Schiller and teased Goethe. But 
while our estimate of manner is relative, our estimate 
of character should be positive. In manner, Madame 
de Stael was the French woman, accustomed to be the 
cynosure of a saloon ; but she was not ridiculous or 
egoiste in character. She was, to use Schlegel's expres- 
sion, ' une femme grande et magnanime jusque dans les 
replis de son ame' — (a woman great and magnanimous 
even in the inmost recesses of her soul.) The best proof 
is the very spirit in which she viewed Germany, in spite 
of all her natural and national prejudices. Goethe did 
not like her ; but he says, ' Whatever we may say or 
think of her, her visit was certainly followed by very 
important results. Her work upon Germany, ■ which 
owed its rise to social conversations, is to be regarded as 
a mighty engine, which at once made a wide breach in 
that Chinese wall of antiquated prejudice which divides 
us from France ; so that the people across the Rhine, 
and afterward across the channel, at length came to a 
nearer knowledge of us ; whence we may look to obtain 
a living influence over the distant west.' 

' In this, which is perhaps her greatest work, Madame 



MADAME DE S T A £ L . 89 

de Stael has endeavored to give a bold, general, and 
philosophical view of the whole intellectual condition of 
the German people, among whom she had made what 
was in some sort a voyage of discovery ; for the highly 
original literature of that country was then little known 
to the rest of Europe.' It was received with great ap- 
plause in England, and afterward in France, where a 
change of government admitted of its being published the 
ensuing year. Sir James Mackintosh immediately wrote 
a review of it, in which he says, ' The voice of Europe 
had already applauded the genius of a national painter 
in the author of Corinna. In her Germany, she throws 
off the aid of fiction ; she delineates a less poetical cha- 
racter, and a country more interesting by anticipation 
than by recollection. But it is not the less certain that 
it is the most vigorous effort of her genius, and probably 
the most .elaborate and masculine production of the fac- 
ulties of woman.' 

Simond says, ' The main defect in her mode of com- 
position, perhaps the only one, is an excessive ambition 
of eloquence. The mind finds no rest anywhere ; eve- 
ry sentence is replete with meaning, fully freighted with 
philosophy, and with wit, sometimes indeed over-laden*; 
no careless expression ever escapes her ; no redundancy 
amid so much exuberance. If you had to make an ab- 
stract of what she wrote, although you might wish to 
render it clearer and simpler, you would scarcely know 
what to strike off, or how to clothe the thoughts in more 
compendious language ; so harmonious and so strong 
is hers. Yet she could compose in company, and write 
while conversing.' 
6 



90 MADAME BE STAEL. 

But the fault most commonly found with Madame de 
Stael's books, and which will probably always prevent 
their being very popular with general readers, is obscu- 
rity. "We never for a moment suspect her of vagueness ; 
we know there is a meaning, when we cannot perceive 
it. As Lady Morgan says, ' There is in her composi- 
tions something of the Delphic priestess. They have 
the energy of inspiration, and the disorder. Sometimes 
mystic, not always intelligible, we still blame the god 
rather than the oracle, and wish she were less inspired, 
or we more intelligent.' 

When Madame de Stael made her visit to England, 
Lord Byron was in the first lustre of his fame* He had 
not then sunk into that depth of moral degradation, 
which afterward made his genius the hot-breathing of a 
curse upon a world that worshipped him. At first, the 
rival lions seem to have been disposed to growl at each 
other. The following extracts from Byron's letters and 
journal give a vivid picture of the terms on which they 
stood : 

St. James's, July 8, 1813. 

' Rogers is out of town with Madame de Stael, who 
hath published an essay against suicide, which, I pre- 
sume, will make somebody shoot himself.' 

July 13, 1813. 
1 P. S. The Stael last night attacked me most furi- 
ously — said that I had no right to make love — that I 
had used ^ ^ ^ barbarously-— that I had no feeling, 
and was totally insensible to la belle passion, and had 
been all my life. I am very glad to hear it : but I did 
not know it before.' 



MADAME BE STAEL. 91 

While Madame de Stael was in England she was 
deeply afflicted by the news of the death of her young* 
est son. Byron alludes to this event in an off-hand 
style, and judges her by rules that apply remarkably 
well to his own character. 

August 22, 1813. 

1 Madame de Stael Holstein has lost one of her young 
barons, who has been carbonadoed by a vile Teutonic 
adjutant— kilt and killed in a coffee-house at Scrawsen- 
hawsen. Corinna is, of course, what all mothers must 
be, — but will, I venture to prophesy, do what few moth* 
ers could— write an essay upon it. She cannot exist 
without a grievance— and somebody to" see or read how 
much grief becomes her. I have not seen her since the 
event ; but merely judge (not very charitably) from pri- 
or observation.' 

Nov. 16. 

1 To-day received Lord Jersey's invitation to Middle- 
ton — -to travel sixty miles to meet Madame * # * ! I 
once travelled three thousand to get among silent peo- 
ple ; and this same lady writes octavos, and talks folios. 
I have read all her books — like most of them, and de- 
light in the last ; so I won't hear as well as read. 3 

Nov. if. 

' At Lord Holland's I was trying to recollect a quota' 
tion (as I think) of StaeTs, from some Teutonic sophist 
about architecture, " Architecture reminds me of frozen 
music," says this Macaronico Tedescho.^ It is some- 
where—but where ? The demon of perplexity must 
know, and won't tell. I asked M — — , and he said it 
was not hers ; but P— — r said it must be hers, it was 
so like.'' 

* It is Goethe, who calls architecture "cine erstarrte muink." 



92 MADAME »E STAEL 

Nov. 30. 

* Received a very pretty billet from M. la Baronne de 
Stael Holstein. She is pleased to be much pleased with 
my mention of her last work in my notes. ^ I spoke as 
I thought — Her works are my delight, and so is she her- 
self for— half an hour. She is a woman by herself, and 
has done more than all the rest of them together, intel- 
lectually. She ought to have been a man. She flat" 
ters me very prettily in her note ; but I know it. The 
reason that adulation is not displeasing is, that, though 
untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in 
one way or other, to induce people to lie, to make us 
their friend :— -that is their concern.' 

Dec. 5. 

1 Asked for Wednesday to dine at Lord Holland's and 
meet the Stael. Asked particularly, I believe, out of 
mischief to see the first interview after my answer to her 
note, with which Corinna professes herself to be so 
much taken. I don't much like it — she always talks of 
myself, or herself and I am not (except in soliloquy, as 
now) much enamored of either subject — especially one's 

works. What the shall I say about Germany ! I 

like it prodigiously. I read her again and again, and 
there can be no affectation in this ; but unless I can 
twist my admiration into some fantastical expression, 
she won't believe me ; and I know by experience I shall 
be overwhelmed with fine things about rhyme,' &c. 

Dec. 7. 

1 This morning received a very pretty billet from the 
Stael, about meeting her at Lord Holland's to-morrow. 

* Byron, in his notes to the Bride of Ahydos, then just published, 
called her the first female writer of this, perhaps of any age. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 93 

I dare say she has written twenty such to different peo- 
ple, all equally nattering. So much the better for her, 
and for those who- believe all she wishes them, or all 
they wish to believe. Her being pleased with my slight 
eulogy is to be accounted for in several ways. Firstly, 
all women like all or any praise ; secondly, this was 
unexpected, because I have never courted her ; thirdly, 
those who have all their lives long been praised by reg- 
ular critics, like a little variety, and are glad when any 
one goes out of his way to say a civil thing ; and fourth- 
ly, she is a very good-natured creature, which is the 
best reason, after all, and perhaps the only one.' 

Dec. 10. 

'Dined at Lord Holland's on Wednesday. The 
Stael was at the other end of the table, and less loqua- 
cious than heretofore. We are now very good friends ; 
thouglrshe asked Lady Melbourne whether I really 
had any bonhommie. She might as well have asked 
that question before she told C. L. 'C'est un demon.' 1 
True enough, but rather premature ; for she could not 
have found it out.' 

Dec. 12. 

' All the world are to be at the Stael's to-night, and 

I am not sorry to escape any part of it. I only go out 

to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.' 

Jan. 11, 1814. 
TO MR. MURRAY. 

1 1 do not love Madame de Stael, but depend upon it, 
she beats all your natives hollow, as an authoress ; and 
I would not say this if I could help it.' 

Jan. 16. 

' Lewis has been squabbling with Madame de Stael 



94 MADAME DESTAEL. 

about Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. My 
homage has never been paid in that quarter, or we should 
have agreed still worse. I don't talk — I can't flatter — 
and I won't listen. Poor Corinne, she will find some 
of her fine speeches will not suit our fine ladies and 
gentlemen.' 

Fee. 18, 1814. 
' More notes from Madame de ^ * unanswered — and 
so they shall remain. I admire her abilities, but really 
her society is overwhelming — an avalanche that buries 
one in glittering nonsense — all snow and sophistry.' 

March 6. 

' Dined with Rogers. Madame de Stael, Mackintosh, 
Sheridan, Erskine, &c. there. Sheridan told a very good 
story of himself and Madame Recamier's handkerchief. 
She says she is going to write a big book about Eng- 
land — I believe her. We got up from table too soon af- 
ter the women ; and Mrs. Corinne always lingers so 
long after dinner, that we wish her in — the drawing- 
room.' 

June 19, 1814. 

' The Stael out-talked Whitbread, was ironed by 
Sheridan, confounded Sir Humphrey, and utterly per- 
plexed your slave. The rest (great names in the red 
book, nevertheless) were mere segments of the circle. 
Mademoiselle - — — * danced a Russ saraband with 
great vigor, grace, and expression.' 

The respect and admiration with which Madame de 
Stael was received by the best society in England was 
rather increased than diminished during her residence 

* Probably Mademoiselle de Stael, afterward Duchess de Brrglie. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 95 

there. She had now been in most of the capitals of Eu- 
rope, and in all of them had received a degree of hom- 
age never before paid to any woman who was not a 
queen. But all these nattering distinctions could not 
wean her affections from her beloved Paris. In the midst 
of the most dazzling triumphs of her genius, her heart 
turned fondly toward France, and she was watching 
with intense anxiety the progress of those great political 
movements, which afterward restored her to her country. 
Immediately after the entrance of the Allied Army into 
Paris, and the consequent abdication of Bonaparte, Ma- 
dame de Stael returned to her native land. Notwith- 
standing the pain it gave her to see her country filled 
with foreign troops, she felt the joy of an exile restored 
to her home. She immediately resumed her high place 
in society ; and the accumulation of fame she brought 
with her threw additional brilliancy around a name, 
which had so long been illustrious. Louis XVIII. took 
great delight in her conversation. He caused to be paid 
from the royal treasury the two millions of francs, that 
M. Necker had loaned to Louis XVI. 

A circumstance, which occurred at this period of her 
life, is remarkably interesting. A project was on foot to 
assassinate Napoleon ; and men were sent to Elba for 
that purpose. Madame de Stael, from her well-known 
dislike to the Emperor, and her acquaintance with poli- 
tical men of all parties, was the first one to whom the 
secret was confided. Accompanied by Talma, she im- 
mediately sought an interview with Joseph Bonaparte, 
informed him of his brother's danger, and even propos- 
ed to go to Elba in person. A patriotic friend, whose 
name is not yet revealed to the public, undertook the 



96 MADAME DE STAEL. 

hazardous mission — he arrived in time, so that the 
two first who landed were arrested, and Bonaparte was 
saved. 

Madame de Stael passed the winters of 1814 and '15 
in Paris, received the universal homage of the great men, 
then collected there from all parts of the world. But 
the shadow of her old and inveterate enemy was sudden- 
ly thrown across this bright spot in her existence. On 
the 6th of March, 1815, Bonaparte suddenly landed in 
France. When Madame de Stael heard the tidings, she 
says, it seemed as if the earth had yawned under her 
feet. She had sufficient knowledge of the French people 
to conjecture what reception Napoleon would meet ; and 
having made a farewell visit to the king, with a heavy 
heart she returned to Coppet. 

Bonaparte, anxious to rebuild the power his own mad- 
ness had overthrown, was particularly desirous to gain 
the confidence of the friends of rational liberty ; and 
among these his former persecution had shown of what 
consequence he considered Madame de Stael. He sent, 
his brother Joseph with a request that she would come 
to Paris and give him her advice about framing a con- 
stitutional government. With a consistency very rare 
in those days of rapid political changes, she replied, 
' Tell the Emperor that for twelve years he has done 
without me, or a constitution ; and I believe that he has 
as little regard for the one as he has for the other.' 

Bonaparte gave O'Meara a very different account. 
He says, ' I was obliged to banish Madame de Stael 
from court.* At Geneva she became very intimate with 

* A gentle and comprehensive description of his system of petty- 
persecutions ! 



X 



MADAME DESTAEL. 97 

my brother Joseph, whom she gained by her conversa- 
tion and writings. When I returned from Elba she sent 
her son to ask payment of two millions, which her fath- 
er had lent out of his private property to Louis XVI. 
and to offer her services provided I complied with her 
request. I refused to see him ; thinking I could not 
grant what he wished without ill-treating others in a sim- 
ilar predicament. However, Joseph would not be refu- 
sed, and brought him in; the attendants not liking to 
deny my brother. I received him politely, and told him 
I was very sorry I could not comply with his request, 
as it was contrary to the laws. Madame de Stael then 
wrote a long letter to Fouche,stating her claims, in which 
she said she wanted the money to portion her daughter in 
marriage to the Due de Broglie, promising that if I com- 
plied with her request, I might command her and hers ; 
that she would be black and ivhitefor me. Fouche urg- 
ed me to comply, saying that at so critical a time she 
might be of considerable service. I answered that I 
would make no bargains.' 

It is impossible that the above statement should be 
true. In the first place, we have more reason to place 
confidence in the veracity of the open-hearted Madame 
de Stael, than we have in the word of Napoleon, who 
seldom " used language for any other purpose than to 
conceal his thoughts"; secondly, in the beginning of his 
reign he did offer to pay those very two millions, if she 
would favor his government, and, at the very time of 
which O'Meara speaks, he again offered to do it; third- 
ly, it is notorious that after his return from Elba he was 
extremely anxious to conciliate his enemies ; and lastly, 
6* 



98 MADAME DESTAEL. 

the history of his whole intriguing life makes us laugh 
at the pretence that he was incapable of making 
bargains. 

At the close of the memorable Hundred Days, Bona- 
parte was a second time compelled to abdicate ; and Ma- 
dame de Stael would have immediately returned to Paris r 
had she not felt such a painful sense of degradation in 
seeing the throne of France supported by a standing 
army of foreign troops : her national pride could not 
brook the disgrace of witnessing her country in the 
leading-strings of the Allied Powers. France, thus sit- 
uated, was in her eyes no longer ' the great nation.' 

She remained at Coppet during the summer of 1815 ; 
but, having fresh cause of alarm for the health of her 
husband, who had never recovered from the effects of 
his wound, she revisited Italy, where they passed the 
winter. In the spring of 1816, they returned to 
Coppet. 

Lord Byron, who had then left England, in high in- 
dignation at the odium he had brought upon himself, 
passed through Switzerland during this year, in his 
way to Italy. Notwithstanding his former want of cor- 
diality toward Madame de Stael, and his personal un- 
popularity at this period, he was received by her with a 
kindness and hospitality, he had not hoped to meet, and 
which affected him deeply. With her usual frankness, 
she blamed him for his conduct to Lady Byron ; and 
by her persuasive eloquence prevailed upon him to 
write to a friend in England expressing a wish to be 
reconciled to his wife. In the letters he wrote, during 
the few summer months he staid in Switzerland, he of- 
ten speaks of Coppet and its inhabitants. He says, 



MADAME DE STAEL. 99 

4 Madame de Stael wishes to see the Antiquary, and I 
am going to take it to her to-morrow. She has made 
Coppet as agreeable to me as society and talent can 
make any place on earth. Bonstetten is there a good 
deal. He is a fine, lively old man, and much esteemed 
by his compatriots. All there are well, excepting 
Eocca, who, I am sorry to say, looks in a very bad state 
of health. Schlegel is in high force, and Madame de 
Stael is as brilliant as ever. Of the Duchess de Broglie, 
Byron spoke in very high terms ; and in noticing her 
attachment to her husband, he remarked, that ' Nothing 
was more pleasing than to see the development of the 
domestic affections in a very young woman.' What a 
pity that virtue was not to him something more than a 
mere abstract idea of poetic beauty ! 

When it became evident that the Allied Powers did 
not me'an to dictate the measures of the French govern- 
ment, Madame de Stael was again strongly tempted by 
the allurements of Paris. She returned once more, to 
become the leading-star in the most brilliant society in 
the world. ' Every evening her saloon was crowded 
with all that was distinguished and powerful, not in 
France only, but in all Europe, which was then repre- 
sented in Paris by a remarkable number of its most ex- 
traordinary men. Madame de Stael had, to a degree 
perhaps never possessed by any other person, the rare 
talent of uniting around her the most distinguished in- 
dividuals of all the opposite parties, literary and politi- 
cal, and making them establish relations among them- 
selves, which they could not afterward entirely shake 
off. There might be found Wellington and Lafayette, 
Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, and Prince Laval ; Hum- 



100 MADAME DE STAEL. 

boldt and Blucher from Berlin ; Constant and Sismon- 
di from Switzerland ; the two Schlegels from Hanover ; 
Canova from Italy ; the beautiful Madame Eecamier, 
and the admirable Duchess de Duras : and from Eng- 
land such a multitude, that it seemed like a general 
emigration of British talent and rank.' 

It was in conversation with men like these, that Mad- 
ame de Stael shone in the fulness of her splendor. 
Much as we may admire her writings, in which she has 
so gracefully blended masculine vigor with female vi- 
vacity and enthusiasm, we cannot realize the vividness 
of her fame, like those who saw her genius flashing and 
sparkling in quick collision with kindred minds. In 
powers of conversation she was probably gifted beyond 
any other human being. Madame Tesse declared, ' if 
she were a queen, she would order Madame de Stael to 
talk to her always.' — Simond says, ' That ambition of 
eloquence, so conspicuous in her writings, was much 
less observable in her conversation ; there was more 
abandon in what she said, than in what she wrote ; 
while speaking, the spontaneous inspiration was no la- 
bor, but all pleasure ; conscious of extraordinary pow- 
ers, she gave herself up to the present enjoyment of the 
good things, and the deep things, flowing in a full stream 
from her own well-stored and luxuriant fancy. The in- 
spiration was pleasure — the pleasure was inspiration ; 
and without precisely intending it, she was, every even- 
ing of her life, in a circle of company, the very Corinne 
she had depicted. It must not, however, be supposed 
that, engrossed by her own self-gratification, Madame 
de Stael was inattentive to the feelings of others ; she 
listened very willingly, enjoyed, and applauded ; she 



MADAME DE STAEL. 101 

did more, often provoking a reply, and endeavoring to 
place her hearers in a situation to have their turn. 
" What do you think ?' she would say with eager good- 
nature, in the very middle of her triumph, that you 
also might have yours. Upon the whole, Madame de 
Stael's bo7i-hommie was still more striking than her tal- 
ents. Madame de Saussure tells us that ' no one could 
understand the full measure of her power, except those 
who knew her in the intimacy of friendship. Her most 
beautiful writings, her most eloquent remarks in society, 
were far from equalling the fascination of her conversa- 
tion, when she threw off the constraint of conforming to 
various characters, and talked unreservedly to one she 
loved. She then gave herself up to an inspiration, 
which seemed to exercise as supernatural an effect upon 
herself, as it did upon others. Whether the power was 
exerted for good or evil, it seemed to come from a source 
over which she had no control. Sometimes, in the 
bitterness of her spirit, she at one breath withered all the 
flowers of life, and probing the heart with red-hot iron, 
destroyed all the illusions of sentiment, all the charm of 
the dearest relations. Presently, she would yield to the 
control of gayety, singularly original in its character : it 
had all the graceful candor and winning credulity of a 
little child, who is a dupe to everything. Then she 
would abandon herself to a sublime melancholy, a relig- 
ious fervor, acknowledging the utter emptiness of all this 
world can bestow.' 

The winter months, at the close of 1816, and the be- 
ginning of 1817, were passed by Madame de Stael in 
Paris. This was the most splendid scene in the gorge- 
ous drama of her life— and it was the last. ' The great 



102 MADAME »E ST A EL. 

exertions she made, evening after evening, in the im« 
portant political discussions that were carried on in her 
saloon,— the labors of the morning in writing almost 
continually something suited to the wants of the mo- 
ment, for the Mercury, and other periodicals, —while at 
the same time, the serious labor of her great work on 
the French Revolution was still pressing on her, — all 
these together were too much for her strength.' Con- 
trary to the advice of the physicians, she persisted in 
using opium, to which she had for some time resorted 
to stimulate her exhausted frame ; but nature was worn 
out, and no artificial means could restore its vigor. A 
violent fever, obviously the effect of the excitement un- 
der which she had so long lived, seized her in Febru- 
ary. By the use of excessively violent means, it was 
thrown off; but though the disease was gone, her con- 
stitution was broken up. Life passed at first insensibly 
from the extremities, and then no less slowly retired 
from the more vital organs. In general, she suffered 
little, and her faculties remained in unclouded bright- 
ness to the last. The interest excited by her situation 
proved the affection she had inspired, and of what con- 
sequence her life was accounted to her country. Every 
day some of the royal family were anxiously inquiring 
at the door, and every day the Duke of Wellington 
came in person to ask if there was no hope. Her most 
intimate friends were admitted into her sick chamber. 
She conversed upon all the subjects that were introdu- 
ced, and took an interest in them all. If her conversa- 
tion at this period had less than her usual animation, it 
is said to have had more of richness and depth. The 
deadly paleness of her features formed a touching con- 



MADAME DE 8TABL, 103 

ttast with the dazzling intelligence, which never desert- 
ed her expressive countenance. Her friends placed a 
double value on every remark she uttered, and treasured 
it in their inmost hearts, as one of the last efforts of her 
wonderful mind. Some of them indulged the hope that 
she might recover ; but she knew from the first that the 
work of death was begun. At one time, owing to a 
high nervous excitement, produced by the progress of 
her disease, the thought of dissolution was terrible to 
her. She mourned over the talent that had made her 
life so brilliant ; over the rank and influence, that she 
could so usefully exercise ; over her children, whose 
success in the world was just then beginning to gratify 
all her affection and pride ; until those who listened to 
her trembled at the heart-rending energy, which excited 
imagination gave to her expressions. But this passed 
away with the disease that produced it ; and calmer feel* 
ings followed. She spoke of her death with composure 
and resignation to all except her daughter. ' My father 
is waiting for me in the other world,' said she, * and I 
shall soon go to him.' By a great effort she wrote, 
with her palsied hand, a few affectionate words of fare- 
'Well to her most intimate friends. Two days before her 
death, she read Lord Byron's Manfred, then just pub- 
lished ; and expressed as clear and distinct an opinion 
on its poetry as she would have done at any moment of 
her life. The morning before she died, she pointed to 
these two beautiful passages, and said they expressed 
all she then felt : 

" Lo ! the clankless chain hath bound thee 5 

O'er thy heart and brain together 

Hath the word been passed — now -wither ! " 



104 MADAME DE STAEL 

* ******* 
" Oh, that I were 
The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, 
A living voice, a breathing harmony, 
A bodiless enjoyment — born and dying 
With the blest tone, which made me ! " 

4 Late that night, as her daughter was kneeling by 
her bedside, she tried to speak to her of her approach- 
ing dissolution ; but the last agony of a mother's heart 
came over her, and she could not : she asked her to go 
into the next room, and then she became calm again- 
Miss Randall, her long-known and affectionate friend^ 
whom she had always wished to have with her at the 
last moment, remained alone with her until morning. 
Once, as she revived from a temporary state of insensi- 
bility, she said, " I believe I can realize what it is to 
pass from life to death ; our ideas are confused, and we 
do not suffer intensely. I am sure the goodness of God 
will render the transition easy." Her hopes were not 
disappointed. At about two o'clock she fell asleep ; and 
so tranquil was this last slumber, that it was only when 
at four o'clock she ceased to breathe, without any move- 
ment, or change of feature, that it became too certain, 
she would wake no more. She died on Monday, July 
14, 1817, at the age of fifty-one.' Her remains were 
carried to Coppet, and placed, as she had desired, by 
the side of her father. 

During her life-time, she had caused a beautiful bas- 
relief to be placed upon his monument. It represented 
a light celestial form, extending her hand to another fig- 
ure, who looks back with compassion upon a young fe- 
male, veiled and prostrate before a tomb. Under these 
emblems are represented Madame Necker, her husband, 



MADAME DE STAEL. 105 

and their daughter ; the two first passing from this 
world to immortal life. 

M. de Rocca, whose fragile health had so often made 
Madame de Stael tremble for a life on which she leaned 
all her hopes, while her own existence was in the ful- 
ness of its vigor, was destined to survive her ; but grief 
soon finished the work which illness had begun. He 
went to linger out his few brief days under the beauti- 
ful sky of Provence, where a brother received his last 
sigh. He expired in the night of the 29th or 30th of 
January, 1818, in his thirty-first year. Their only 
child was confided to the affectionate care of the Duch- 
ess de Broglie. 

Simond, in his tour through Switzerland, visited Cop- 
pet, soon after the death of Madame de Stael. He pays 
the following tribute to her memory : ' Death has dis- 
armed her numerous political enemies ; and the tongue 
of slander is silent. Her warm, generous, forgiving 
temper, her romantic enthusiasm, her unrivalled powers 
of conversation, her genius, are alone remembered. — 
The place of this extraordinary woman is marked among 
the most eloquent writers of any age ; among the best 
delineators of human feelings and passions ; among the 
truest historians of the heart. She might not possess 
much positive knowledge ; sometimes she spoke of 
things she did not thoroughly understand ; her imagin- 
ation often took the lead of her judgment ; but her er- 
rors were invariably on the generous side, and still be- 
spoke greatness of mind and elevated sentiment.' 

When Madame de Stael made a final arrangement of 
her affairs, a short time before her decease, she request- 
ed her children to declare her second marriage, and to 



106 MADAME DE STAEL. 

publish her great work on the French Revolution, al- 
though she had not been able to complete it. The idea 
of finishing this book had been a favorite project, of 
which she had never lost sight from the time of her fa- 
ther's death, until the near approach of her own. Her 
first effort is to vindicate M. Necker's memory from the 
aspersions cast upon it by his enemies ; and to prove 
that his political conduct was ever influenced by the pu- 
rest, most patriotic, and most consistent motives. She 
had remarkable opportunities for obtaining full and ac- 
curate information concerning the startling scenes of 
the French Revolution, and the causes which produced 
them ; and in describing them, she has singularly com- 
bined the animated and fervid eloquence of an eye-wit- 
ness, with the calmness and candor of an historian. 
The impartiality with which she speaks of Bonaparte, 
after all she had suffered from him, shows that she pos- 
sessed true greatness of soul. Indeed, a forgiving tem- 
per was one of Madame de Stael's prevailing charac- 
teristics. No injuries could excite her to revenge ; she 
resented for a moment, but she never hated. She was 
so fearful of being ungenerous, that she was less likely 
to speak ill of her enemies, for the very reason that 
they were her enenfies. There was but one offence, 
which she never pardoned, and that was a disrespectful 
word of her father. In such cases, she never resorted 
to retaliation ; but she maintained toward the individual 
a perpetual coldness and reserve. 

The envious and frivolous Madame de Genlis, who, 
to considerable talent united an excessive vanity, was 
always attacking her distinguished rival with bitter crit- 
icisms and sarcastic remarks ; but Madame de Stael 



MADAME DE STAEL. 107 

was never provoked to retort by an unkind word ; she 
praised her when she could, and when she could not, 
she was silent. When Madame de Genlis, at last, spoke 
unfavorably of Madame Necker, she exclaimed, ' Does 
she suppose, because I do not return her attacks upon 
myself, that I will not defend my mother ! Madame de 
Genlis may say what she will of my writings ; and for 
myself, she may either love or fear me. But I will de- 
fend my dead mother, who has nobody else in the world 
to take her part. True, she loved my father better than 
she did me — and by that I know that I have all her 
blood in my veins ; as long as that blood circulates, she 
shall not be attacked with impunity.' Her friends rep- 
resented to her that, as she was then exiled and perse- 
cuted, attacks on those she loved would only be multi- 
plied by taking notice of them ; and her indignation 
subsided as rapidly as it had arisen. 

The fragments of the journal she kept after she left 
France have been published by her son and the Due de 
Broglie, under the title of the Ten Years' Exile of Ma- 
dame de Stael. It is astonishing that she was able to 
observe so much of the countries through which she pas- 
sed with rapidity and fear, on her way to England. 

Madame de Stael wrote the articles Aspasia, Cam- 
oens, and Cleopatra, for La Biographie TJniverselle. 
Her works were all collected and published in one edi- 
tion by her children ; accompanied by a notice of her life 
and writings, by Madame Necker de Saussure. 

Such was the life of Madame de Stael — which 
through its whole course, more resembled a long contin- 
ued and brilliant triumph than the ordinary lot of mor- 
tals. Yet none of us would wish such a destiny for a 



108 MADAME DE STAEL. 

sister, or a child. She herself had suffered so keenly 
from the envy and evil feelings which always darken 
the bright path of genius, that she exhorted her daugh- 
ter not to follow in her footsteps. She talked freely to 
her children of the dangers into which she had been led 
by her active imagination and ardent feelings : she often 
quoted her motto to Delphine, ' A man ought to know 
how to brave the opinion of the world ; a woman should 
submit to it.' In the present state of society, it is un- 
doubtedly true that a woman suffers much more than a 
man, if she does not submit to the opinions of the 
world. 

Mrs. Jameson, who visited Coppet several years 
after, thus describes her visit : " The Duchess de 
Broglie being absent, we had an opportunity of seeing 
the chateau. All things ' were there of her ' — of her, 
whose genuine worth excused, whose all-commanding 
talents threw into shade those failings which belonged 
to the weakness of her sex, and her warm feelings and 
imagination. The servant girl, who showed us the 
apartments, had been fifteen years in Madame de Stael's 
service. All the servants had remained long in the 
family, " Elle etait si bonne et si charmante mai- 
tresse !" A picture of Madame de Stael, when young, 
gave me the idea of a fine countenance and figure, 
though the features were irregular. In the bust, the 
expression is not so prepossessing ; there the color and 
brilliance of her splendid dark eyes, the finest feature of 
her face, are of course quite lost. The bust of M. 
Rocca, by Christian Friederich Tieck, was standing in 
the Baron de Stael's dressing-room. I was more struck 
with it than anything I saw, not only as a chef-d'osuvre, 



MADAME. DE STAEL. 109 

but from the perfect and regular beauty of the head, 
and the charm of the expression. It was just such a 
mouth as we might suppose to have uttered his well- 
known reply, " Je V aimer ai tellement, quelle Jinira par 
m 'aimer. ." Madame de Stael had a son by this mar- 
riage, who had just been brought home by his brother, 
the Baron, from a school in the neighborhood. He is 
about seven years old. If we may believe the servant, 
Madame de Stael did not acknowledge this son till just 
before her death ; and she described the wonder of the 
boy on being brought home to the chateau, and desired 
to call the Baron, ' Auguste ' and * mon frere.' 

Madame de Stael, with all her errors, deserves our 
highest respect and admiration. Her defects, whether 
as an author or a woman, always sprung from the excess 
of something good. Everything in her character tended 
to extremes. She had an expansive freedom, a mighty 
energy of soul, which never found room enough in this 
small world of ours. Her spirit was impatient within 
the narrow bounds of time and space, and was forever 
aspiring to something above the destiny of mortals. 

If we are disposed to blame her eagerness for all 
kinds of distinction, we must remember that her ambi- 
tious parents educated her for display, and that she was 
endowed with genius which made every effort a victory. 
If there is something to forgive, there is more to admire ; 
and few will censure her, if none speak harshly but those 
who have had equal temptations. The most partial can- 
not deny that she had many faults ; but they are so con- 
secrated by unrivalled genius, by kindness, disinterested- 
ness, and candor, that we are willing to let the veil of 
7 



110 MADAME DE STAEL. 

oblivion rest upon them forever, and to remember only 
that no woman was ever gifted witli a clearer head, or 
a better heart. 



LIST OF WORKS USED IN THE COMPILATION. 

MS. Lectures on French Literature, by Professor Ticknor. 
Notice sur leCaractere et les Ecrits de Madame de Stael, par Ma* 
dame Necker de Saussure. 
La Biographie Universelle. 
Simond's Tour in Switzerland. 
Sir John Sinclair's Corresponden e. 
Memoirs and Correspondence of Baron de Grimm. 
Ten Years' Exile of Madame de Stael. 
Considerations on the French Revolution, by Madame de StaeL 
Moore's Life of Byron. 
Lavalette's Memoirs. 
Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon. 
O'Meara's Voice from St. Helena. 
Edinburgh Review. 
Monthly Anthology. 
Encyclopaedia Americana. 
Goethe's Correspondence witn a Child. 
Mrs. Jameson's Sketches. 



MADAME ROLAND 



O, Liberte, que de crimes on commet en ton nom !' 



Manon-Jeanne Phlipon, afterward Madame Ro- 
land, was born at Paris, in 1754. Her father was an 
engraver, not particularly distinguished in his art. He 
seems to have been a common-place character, fond of 
money, and vain of his superficial acquaintance with the 
fine arts. His daughter tells us that ' though he traffick- 
ed with tradesmen, he formed connexions only with ar- 
tists. He could not be said to be a virtuous man, but he 
had a great deal of what is called honor. He had no 
objection to selling a thing for more than it was worth, 
but he would have killed himself rather than not pay 
the stipulated price of what he had agreed to purchase.' 

M. Phlipon married a very beautiful woman, with 
small fortune, but greatly his superior in intelligence and 
dignity of character. They had seven children ; of 
whom Manon-Jeanne was the second ; all the others 
died in infancy. After being two years with a faithful 
nurse in the country, watched over by a very devoted 



112 MADAME KOLAND. 

god-mother, Mademoiselle Phlipon was brought home 
to her father's. Her gentle and discreet mother soon 
gained an ascendency over her youthful mind, which she 
never lost. 

At two years' old, she describes herself as a ' little 
brunette, whose dark hair played gracefully on a face 
animated by a blooming complexion.' The young lady 
was full of spirits, active, and not a little obstinate-; yet 
Madame Phlipon had never occasion to punish her in 
any other way than by fixing her eye sternly upon her, 
and gravely saying, ' Mademoiselle ! ' 

Madame Roland, while writing her Memoirs, during 
the last days of her life, says — ' I still feel the impres- 
sion made upon me by her look ; I still hear, with a 
beating heart, the word Mademoiselle substituted, with 
heart-rending dignity, for the kind name of daughter, or 
the elegant appellation of Manon. Yes, Man-on /.# I 
am sorry for the lovers of romance : there is certainly 
nothing noble in the name, nor is it at all suited to a 
heroine of the lofty kind ; but as an historian, I cannot 
disguise the truth. The most fastidious would have be- 
come reconciled to the sound of this name, could they 
have seen my mother, and heard it pronounced in her 
soft, affectionate tone.' 

But though thus easily swayed by Madame Phlipon, 
the child often rebelled against the imperious orders of 
her father, and would never readily submit to anything 
of which she did not perceive the reason. Anything 
like coercion made her as furious as a lion. Several 
times, she bit her father, while he was whipping her. 
When about six years old, it was one day necessary for 

* Synonymous with Molly. 



MADAME itOLAftD, US 

her to take some nauseous medicine. At her mother's 
solicitation, she several times attempted to drink it, but 
turned away her head with loathing. Her father came 
in, and threatened her with the rod. This roused the 
native stubbornness of her character ; and from that 
moment she determined she would not try to do as they 
wished. After a severe whipping, she attempted to 
throw the physic away. Her father, being very angry* 
a second time punished her still more severely. A vio* 
lent uproar succeeded; but the child was not subdued^ 
Her father then promised her a third, and still more 
cruel whipping. Her cries and sobs suddenly ceased 
^- calmly and firmly, she pushed the cup from her, and 
offered herself to the rod* determined to die rather than 
submit. In relating this scene, she speaks of it as the 
first development of that heroic fortitude, which support* 
ed her through the horrors of the French Revolution*, 
Her mother was, of course, dreadfully agitated-: having 
persuaded her husband to leave the room, she put the 
little girl to bed, and left her, without saying a word. 
When the child had rested two hours, she returned, and) 
with tears in her eyes, entreated her to take the med- 1 - 
icine, without occasioning her any further vexation ; the 
little girl, melted by her gentleness, looked steadily in 
her face* and swallowed it at a single draught. 

From that time, her father never undertook to punish 
her. He adopted his wife's system of mildness and rea* 
son, and tried to gain his daughter's affections by walk- 
ing with her, teaching her to draw, and entering into 
kind conversations with her. 

Being the only child of parents in easy circumstances, 
7* 



114 Madame eolans. 

Mademoiselle Phlipon received a more careful educa* 
tion than was usually bestowed upon young ladies of 
her class in life. Her bright and active mind made 
rapid progress in every thing she undertook. At four 
years old, she read so well that no further trouble was 
required, except to supply her with books enough. A 
prize obtained from the priest, to whom she said her 
Sunday lessons, seems to have given an early impulse 
to her ambition. Indeed it is evident that, from her in- 
fancy, she was considered, both by herself and her pa- 
rents, as a very extraordinary little personage. She 
says, ' I learned everything it was thought proper to 
give me. I should have repeated the Koran, had I been 
taught to read it. I shall always remember a painter 
named Guibol, whose panegyric on Poussin obtained a 
prize from the Academy at Rouen. He frequently 
came to my father's ; and being a merry fellow, he told 
me many extravagant tales, which amused me exceed- 
ingly ; nor was he less diverted in making me display 
my slender stock of knowledge in return. I think I see 
him now, with a figure bordering on the grotesque, sit- 
ting in an arm-chair, taking me between his knees, on 
which I rested my elbows, and making me repeat the 
Athanasian Creed ; then rewarding my compliance 
with the story of Tanger, whose nose was so long, that 
he was obliged, when he walked, to twist it round his 
arm : this is not the most absurd contrast that might be 
exhibited.' Masters were employed to instruct her in 
writing, geography, music, and dancing ; and a mater- 
nal uncle, who was an ecclesiastic, complied with her 
earnest request to teach her Latin. Such was" her quick- 
ness of apprehension, and her eagerness to learn, that 



MADAME ROLAND. 115 

every new subject of study was a feast to her. She 
used to rise at five o'clock in the morning, when every 
one else in the house was asleep, and steal softly to a 
corner of her mother's chamber, where her books were 
deposited ; and there she studied and copied her lessons 
with such assiduity, that everybody was astonished at 
the progress she made. She says, '.' My masters conse- 
quently became more affectionate ; gave me longer les-^ 
sons ; and took such an interest in my instruction as ex- 
cited me to new efforts. I never had a master, who did 
not appear as much flattered by teaching me, as I was 
grateful for being taught ; or one who, after attending 
me a year or two, was not the first to say that his in- 
structions were no longer necessary— -that he ought no 
longer to be paid, but should be glad of permission to 
visit my parents, in order to converse with me some- 
times. 

Mademoiselle Phlipon did not get along so fast in her 
Latin, as in her other studies ; because her uncle Bi- 
mont was a social, merry priest, who much preferred a 
frolic with his lively little niece, to hearing her decline 
nouns and conjugate verbs. However, to the imperfect 
knowledge she obtained from him, she attributes the 
singular facility she afterward had in acquiring other 
languages. She says, ' My studies completely occupied 
my days, which always seemed too short ; for I could 
never get through all I was inclined to undertake. I 
soon exhausted all the books the small family library 
contained. I devoured every volume, and began the 
same over again, when no new ones were to be obtained. 
Two folio Lives of the Saints, an old version of the Bi- 
ble, a translation of Appian's Civil Wars, and a descrip- 



116 MADAME ROLAND. 

tion of Turkey, written in a wretched style, I read Ovet 
and over again. I also found the Comical Romance of* 
Scarron ; some collections of pretended bon mots, on 
which I did not bestow a second perusal ; the Memoirs 
of the brave de Pontis, which diverted me much ; those 
of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, whose pride did not 
displease me ; and several other antiquated works, the 
contents, binding, and spots of which I have still before 
my eyes. Indeed, the passion for learning possessed 
me to such a degree, that having picked up a treatise on 
the art of Heraldry, I set myself instantly to study it* 
It had colored plates, with which I was diverted, and 
was glad to know the names of all the little figures they 
contained. My father was astonished when I gave him. 
a specimen of my science, by making some remarks on 
a seal, that was not engraved according to the rules of 
art. On this subject I became his oracle, nor did I ever 
mislead him. I also endeavored to learn a short Treat- 
ise on Contracts, which fell into my hands ; but it tired 
me so soon* that I did not get to the fourth chapter. In 
searching the house, I found a recess in my father's 
work-shop, where one of the young men in his employ 
kept his books. This discovery furnished me with a 
store of reading. I carried off a volume at a time to 
devour in my little closet, taking great care to put it in 
place as soon as I had done. In this way I read a great 
many volumes of Travels, of which I was passionately 
fond ; some Plays, of second-rate authors ; and Dacier's 
Plutarch. This last was more to my taste, than any 
thing I had seen ; not even excepting pathetic stories, 
which always affected me powerfully. Plutarch seem- 
ed to be exactly the intellectual food that suited me ; I 



MADAME ROLAND. 117 

shall never forget the Lent of 1763, at which time I was 
nine years of age, when I carried it to church instead of* 
the Exercise for the Holy Week. From that period, I 
may date the impressions and ideas which rendered me 
a republican without my ever dreaming of becoming 
one. I actually wept because I was not born a Spartan 
or a Roman ! ' 

About the same time she became captivated with the 
writings of Tasso and Fenelon ; some passages of which 
excited and agitated her so much, that she says she 
would have plucked out her tongue rather than have at- 
tempted to read them aloud. Her father, wishing to 
foster her propensity for serious studies, gave her Fen- 
elon on female education, and Locke on the education 
of children in general. These books, intended for ma- 
ture minds, would not have been read by many girls of 
her age ; but Mademoiselle Phlipon appears to have 
read them to some purpose, deriving from them habits 
of thought and self-examination. 

She received instructions in engraving, as well as 
drawing ; and during childhood, her bii'th-day presents 
to relatives usually consisted of some pretty head drawn 
by herself, or a flower neatly engraved on copper, with 
a compliment written beneath. These things, however, 
were merely intended as innocent and delightful re- 
sources, during the many lonely hours, which the des- 
tiny of woman almost always imposes upon her. Her 
judicious mother did not wish to see her entirely en- 
grossed in such employments, even for the sake of great 
excellence ; for she was aware that she should not con- 
tribute to her daughter's happiness, or usefulness, by 
making her an artist. 



118 ,M ADA ME ROLAND. 

With regard to dress, Madam Phlipon did as the pa- 
rents of an only child are too apt to do. Madame Ro- 
land says, ' In her own dress she was plain, sometimes 
even negligent ; but I was her doll, and it was her great 
delight to see me fine. From my infancy I was dressed 
with a degree of elegance, that seemed unsuitable to 
my condition. The young ladies of that period wore 
long trains to their. robes, which swept the pavement as 
they walked. These trains were trimmed according to 
the taste of the wearer. Mine were of fine silk, of 
some simple pattern and modest color, but in price and 
quality equal to my mother's best gala suits. My toil- 
ette was a grievous business. My hair was papered 
and frizzed, and tortured with hot irons, and other bar- 
barous implements used at that time, until my sufferings 
actually forced the tears from my eyes. Considering 
the retired life I led, some will ask for whose eyes all 
this finery was intended ? It is true, that my mother 
was almost always at home, and received very little 
company. Two days in the week, however, we always 
went abroad ; once to visit my father's relations, and 
once, which was on Sunday, to see my grandmother 
Bimont, to go to church, and to take a walk. My grand- 
mother was a handsome woman, who at an early age had 
suffered an attack of the palsy, from which her under- 
standing had sustained a permanent injury. From that 
time she had gradually declined into a state of dotage ; 
spending her days in her easy-chair, either at the win- 
dow or the fire-side, according to the season. An old 
servant, who had been forty years in the family, regu- 
larly gave me my afternoon's repast, as soon as I enter- 
ed. When that was over, I grew dreadfully tired of the 



MADAME ROLAND. 119 

visit. I sought for books, but could find none except 
the Psalter ; and for want of better employment I read 
the French, and chanted the Latin, twenty times over. 
When I was gay, my grandmother would often weep, 
uttering grievous cries, that frightened and distressed 
me ; and if I fell down, or hurt myself in any way, she 
would laugh aloud. It was in vain to tell me all this 
was the effect of her disease ; I did not find it any more 
agreeable on that account. My mother considered it a 
sacred duty to pass two hours listening to the old ser- 
vant's garrulity. This was a painful exercise to my pa- 
tience ; but I was forced to submit to it. One day, 
when I cried for vexation, and begged to go away, my 
mother, as a punishment, staid the whole evening. She 
took proper occasions to impress it upon my mind that 
her assiduous attention to a helpless parent was a sa- 
cred and becoming duty, in which it was honorable for 
me to participate. I know not how she managed it, but 
my heart received the lesson with emotion. 

1 Beside these regular family-visits, there were others 
paid on great occasions, such as new-year's day, wed- 
dings, christenings, &c. which afforded sufficient oppor- 
tunities for the gratification of vanity. Those acquain- 
ted with the manners of what was then called the 
bourgeoisie of Paris, will know that there were thou- 
sands of them, whose expense in dress (by no means 
inconsiderable) had no other object, than an exhibition 
of a few hours, on Sunday, in the Tuileries ; to which 
their wives joined the display of their finery at church, 
and the pleasure of parading their own quarter of the 
town, before their admiring neighbors. 



120 MADAME ROLAND. 

' But my education afforded many strong contrasts. 
The young lady elegantly dressed for exhibition at 
church and in the public walks on Sunday, and whose 
manners and language were perfectly consistent with 
her appearance, could nevertheless go to market with her 
mother in a linen frock, or step into the street alone, to 
buy a salad, which the servant had forgotten. It is true, 
I was not much pleased with these commissions ; but I 
showed no signs of dislike. I behaved with so much 
civility, yet with so much dignity, that the shopkeepers 
always took pleasure in serving me first ; yet those 
'who came before me were never offended. I was sure 
to pick up some compliment or other in the way, which 
only served to make me more polite. The same child, 
who read systematic works, who could explain the cir- 
cles of the celestial sphere, who could handle the crayon 
and the graver, and who at eight years of age was the 
best dancer in the youthful parties, was frequently called 
into the kitchen to make an omelet, pick herbs, or skim 
the pot. This mixture of serious studies, agreeable re- 
laxations, and domestic cares, was rendered pleasant by 
my mother's good management, and fitted me for every- 
thing : it seemed to forebode the vicissitudes of my fu- 
ture life, and enabled me to bear them. In every place 
I am at home : I can prepare my own dinner with as 
much address as PhilopGemen cut wood ; but no one see- 
ing me thus engaged would think it an office, in. which 
I ought to be employed.' 

Madame Phlipon was a pious woman, and of course 
earnestly endeavored to instil religious feelings into the 
mind of her child. These maternal instructions, ren- 
dered doubly impressive by the solemn ritual of the 



MADAME ROLAND. 121 

Catholic church, soon kindled her ardent nature into a 
blaze of enthusiasm. She read with avidity the expla- 
nations of the church ceremonies, and treasured up 
their mystic signification in her memory. Again and 
again she studied the Lives of the Saints, and regretted 
those happy days when the persecuting fury of pagan- 
ism conferred the crown of martyrdom upon courageous 
christians. Her active imagination invested the soli- 
tude and silence of the cloister with everything grand 
and romantic. Before she experienced this state of 
mind, the idea of leaving her mother had been extremely 
painful to her ; the least mention of it drew forth a 
flood of tears. Her friends, being aware of this feeling, 
would sometimes amuse themselves by talking of the 
propriety of sending young ladies to a convent for a few 
years ; and smile to observe the sudden clouds, which 
quick sensibility would spread over her expressive coun- 
tenance. But now the state of things was quite dif- 
ferent ; all her thoughts were occupied with the idea of 
withdrawing from the world and its pleasures. One 
evening, being alone with her parents, she fell at their 
feet, and with a torrent of tears besought them to send 
her to a convent, that she might prepare for her first 
communion in a frame of mind suitable to the solemni- 
ty of the occasion. This request affected her parents 
deeply, and was immediately complied with. 

After some inquiries into the character of the numer- 
ous convents, Mademoiselle Phlipon was conducted to 
the Sisterhood of the Congregation, in the Rue Neuve 
St Etienne. She says, ' While pressing my dear moth- 
er in my arms, at the moment of parting with her for 
the first time in my life, I thought my heart would have 



122 MADAME ROLAND. 

burst ; but I was acting in obedience to the voice of God, 
and passed the threshold of the cloister, tearfully offering 
up to him the greatest sacrifice I was capable of making. 
This was on the seventh of May, 1765, when I was 
eleven years and two months old.' 

' In the gloom of a prison, in the midst of political 
storms, which ravage my country, and sweep away all 
that is dear to me, how shall I recall to my mind and 
how describe the rapture and tranquillity I enjoyed at 
this period of my life ! What lively colors can express 
the soft emotions of a young heart endued with tender- 
ness and sensibility, greedy of happiness, beginning to be 
alive to the beauties of nature, and perceiving the Deity 
alone ! The first night I spent at the convent was a 
night of agitation. I was no longer under the paternal 
roof. I was at a distance from that kind mother, who 
was doubtless thinking of me with affectionate emotion. 
A dim light diffused itself through the room in which I 
had been put to bed, with four children of my own age. 
I stole softly from my couch, and drew near the window, 
the light of the moon enabling me to distinguish the 
garden, which it overlooked. The deepest silence pre- 
vailed around, and I listened to it, if I may use the ex- 
pression, with a sort of respect. Lofty trees cast their 
gigantic shadows along the ground, and promised a se- 
cure asylum to peaceful meditation. I lifted up my eyes 
to the heavens ; they were unclouded and serene. I 
imagined that I felt the presence of the Deity smiling 
on my sacrifice, and already offering me a reward in the 
consolatory hope of a celestial abode. Tears of delight 
flowed down my cheeks. I repeated my vows with holy 



MADAME ROLAND. 123 

ecstasy, and went to bed again to taste the slumber of 
the elect. 

As it was evening when I came to the convent, I had 
not yet seen all my fellow boarders. ' Thirty-four were 
assembled in one school-room. They were from the age 
of six to that of eighteen ; the older and the younger be- 
ing divided into separate classes. There was so much 
of the little woman about me, that it was immediately 
judged proper to include me with the elder set. I ac- 
cordingly became the twelfth at their table, and found 
myself the youngest of them all. My correct mode of 
speaking, the sedate air which had become habitual, and 
the tone of politeness rendered familiar to me by my 
mother's manner, bore very little resemblance to the noi- 
sy mirth of my thoughtless companions. I inspired the 
children with confidence, because I never gave them a 
rude answer ; and the older girls treated me with res- 
pect because my seriousness. procured particular attention 
from the nuns, while it did not lessen my desire to o- 
blige them. Educated as I had hitherto been, it was 
not surprising that I was better informed than most of 
my class, though the youngest of them all. The nuns 
perceived they could derive' honor from my education 
without taking any pains to continue it. I became the 
favorite of the whole sisterhood ; it was quite a matter 
of contention who should caress and compliment me. 
In addition to the convent studies, I still received les- 
sons in music and drawing. The regularity of a life 
filled up with such a variety of studies was well suited 
to the activity of my mind, and to my natural taste for 
method and application. I was one of the first at every 
thing ; yet I always had leisure, because I was diligent, 



124 MADAME EOLAND. 

and did not lose a moment of my time. In the hours 
set apart for recreation, I felt no desire to run and play 
with the crowd, but retired to some solitary spot to read 
and meditate. With what delight was I filled by the 
beauty of the foliage, and the fragrance of the flowers , 
Everywhere I perceived the hand of Deity ! 

' A novice took the veil soon after my arrival at the 
convent. I still feel the agitation which her slightly 
tremulous voice excited in my bosom, when she melo- 
diously chanted the customary verse, ' Here have I cho- 
sen my abode, and will establish it forever V I can repeat 
the notes as accurately as if I had heard them yesterday ; 
and happy should I be, if I could chant them in Ameri- 
ca ! Oh God! with what emphasis should I utter them 
now S* 

' When the novice, after pronouncing her vows, was 
covered with a pall, under which one might have sup- 
posed her to have been buried, I was no longer myself 
— I was the very victim of the sacrifice. I thought they 
were tearing me from my mother, and shed torrents of 
tears. 

' With sensibility like this, which renders impressions 
so profound, existence never grows languid. I have 
never found mine a burden, even in the midst of the 
severest trials ; and though not yet forty, I have lived to 
a prodigious age, if life be measured by the sentiment 
that has marked every moment of its duration. 

1 1 received my first communion at the festival of the 
Assumption, soon after I was placed at the convent. 
Prepared by all the customary means, by retirement, 

* It will be recollected that Madame Roland wrote her memoirs in 
prison, during the reign of Robespierre. 



MADAME HOLAftJ}. 125 

long prayers, silence, and meditation, I considered it as 
a solemn engagement, and the pledge of eternal felicity. 
It excited my imagination, and softened my heart to such 
a degree, that, bathed in tears, and enraptured with di- 
vine love, I was incapable of walking to the altar with- 
out the assistance of a nun* who took me under both 
arms, and bore me to the sacred table* These demon- 
strations of a feeling entirely unaffected procured me 
great consideration, and all the good old women I met 
were sure to recommend themselves to my prayers.' 

During her residence in the convent* her parents came 
every Sabbath to walk with her in the Jardin du RoL 
Although very happy among her young companions, 
she never parted from her mother without tears. ' Yet,' 
she says, ' I returned from these excursions with pleas- 
ure to the silent cloisters, and walked through them with 
measured-step, the better to enjoy their solitude. Some- 
times I would stop at a tomb, on which the eulogy of a 
pious maiden was engraved. ' She is happy,' said I to 
myself, with a sigh. And then a melancholy, not with- 
out its charms, would take possession of my soul, and 
make me long to be received into the bosom of the De- 
ity, where I hoped to find that perfect felicity, of which 
I felt the want.' 

She remained with the nuns a year ; during which 
time she formed an intimate friendship with Sophia 
Cannet, whose*family were allied to the nobility ; this 
friendship continued through her life ; and she attri- 
butes her facility in writing to the constant correspon- 
dence which she maintained with this young lady, after 
their separation. Another friendship, equally perma- 
8 



126 M AJ) A M E R L AN D . 

nent, existed between her and a nun, many years her 
senior, called Saint Agatha. 

At the time Mademoiselle Phlipon left this peaceful re- 
treat, her father was engaged in parish affairs, that call- 
ed him much from home ; and her mother, being obli- 
ged to superintend his business, could not watch oyer 
her daughter so continually as she deemed necessary ; 
it was therefore decided that she should reside for a 
time with her grandmother Phlipon, and her great- 
aunt Angelica. 

Her paternal grandmother was a graceful, lady-like 
matron, who thought a great deal of outward elegance, 
and refinement of manner ; aunt Angelica was meek, 
affectionate, and pious. With these good old relatives 
Mademoiselle Phlipon passed her thirteenth year, se- 
cluded from all intercourse with the world, save an 
occasional visit to her mother, or to her friends at the 
convent. 

An anecdote, which she relates at this time, serves to 
show how early her republican mind began to be troubled 
by any assumption of superiority in rank, ' My grand- 
mother one day took it in her head to visit Madame de 
Boismorel, with whom she was remotely connected-, 
and whose children she had partly educated. Great 
were the preparations in consequence ; and tedious was 
the business of dressing, which began at break of day. 
On entering the mansion, all the servant, beginning 
with the porter, saluted Madame Phlipon with an air of 
respect and affection. ' She answered every one in the 
kindest and most dignified manner ; so far, all went 
well. But she could not deny herself the pleasure of 
pointing out her grand-daughter ; and the servants must 



MADAME ROLAND. 127 

needs pay fine compliments to the young lady. I had 
an uncomfortable feeling, for which I could not account; 
but which I perceived to proceed, in part, from the idea 
that servants might look at, and admire me, but that it 
was not their business to pay me compliments.* We 
were announced by a tall footman, and walked into the 
parlor, where we found Madame de Boismorel seated 
upon an ottoman, embroidering with great gravity. Her 
dress bespoke less taste than desire to display her opu- 
lence, and indicate her rank ; while her countenance, 
far from expressing any wish to please, announced her 
claims to respect, and the consciousness of her merit. 
Rouge, an inch thick, gave her unmeaning eyes a much 
more unfeeling look than was necessary to make me fix 
mine upon the ground. " A, Mademoiselle Rotisset ! 
good morning to you !" cried Madame de Boismorel, in 
a loud and frigid tone, while rising to receive us. (" So 
my grandmother is called Mademoiselle, in this house," 
thought I to myself.) " I am very glad to see you, in- 
deed. And who is this fine girl ? Your grand-daugh- 
ter, I suppose ? She promises to make a pretty woman. 
Come here, my dear. She is a little bashful. How 
old is your grand-daughter, Mademoiselle Rotisset ? 
She is a little brown, to be sure ? but her skin is clear, 
and will grow fairer a year or two hence. She is quite 
the woman already. I will lay my life, that hand must 
be a lucky one. Did you ever venture in the lottery, 
my dear ?" " Never, madam : I am not fond of ga- 
ming." " What an admirable voice ! So sweet, and 
yet so full-toned ! But how grave she is ! Pray, my 

* Like many republicans of maturer years, she seems, at this period, to 
have been anxious to level down to herself, but not to level up. 



128 MADAME ROLAND. 

dear, are you not a little of the devotee ? " "I know 
my duty to God, and I endeavor to fulfil it," " That's 
a good girl. You wish to take the veil, don't you ?" 
" I do not know what will be my destination ; nor do I 
at present seek to conjecture it." " Very sententious, 
indeed ! Your grand-daughter reads a great deal, does 
she not. Mademoiselle Rotisset ?" " Reading, madam, 
is her greatest delight." " Ay, ay, I see how it is ; 
but have a care she does not turn author ; that would 
be a pity indeed." The ladies then began to talk of the 
health and the follies of their family connexions. I 
took a survey of the apartment, the decorations of which 
pleased me much more than the lady to whom they be- 
longed. My blood circulated more rapidly than usual, 
my cheeks glowed, and my little heart was all of a flut- 
ter. I did not yet ask myself why my grandmother 
was not seated on the ottoman, and why Madame de 
Boismorel was not playing the humble part of my aunt 
Angelica ; but I had the feelings, which naturally lead 
to such reflections.' 

After a year's residence with her grandmother, she 
returned home. She says, ' It was not without regret 
that I left the handsome streets of the Isle St Louis^ 
the pleasant quays, and the tranquil banks of the Seine, 
where I was accustomed to take the air with my aunt 
Angelica, in the serene summer evenings. Along 
those quays I used to pass, without meeting a single 
object to interrupt my meditations, when, in the fer- 
vency of my zeal, I repaired to the temple to pour out 
my whole soul at the foot of the altar. Notwithstand- 
ing my love for my mother, I took leave of my aged 
relatives with a flood of tears. My grandmother's 



MADAME ROLAND. 129 

gayety had given a charm to her quiet residence, in 
which I had passed so many happy days. I was still 
going to reside upon the hanks of the Seine ; hut the 
situation of my father's house was not solitary and 
peaceful, like that of his mother. The moving picture 
of the Pont Neuf varied the scene every moment ; 
and literally, as well as figuratively, I entered the world, 
when I returned to my paternal roof. A free air and 
an unconfined space still, however, gave scope to my 
romantic imagination. How many times have I con- 
templated with tears of delight the vast expanse of 
heaven, and its azure dome, designed with so much 
grandeur, stretching from the gray east heyond the 
Pont-au- Change to the trees of the mall, and the houses 
of Chaillot, resplendent with the setting sun ! I know 
not if sensihility give a more vivid hue to every object, 
or if certain situations, which do not appear very re- 
markable, contribute powerfully to develope it, or if 
both be not reciprocally cause and effect ; but, when 
I review the. events of my life, I find it difficult to as- 
sign to circumstances, or to my disposition, that variety, 
and that plenitude of affection, which have so strongly 
marked every point of its duration, and left me so clear 
a remembrance of every place at which I have been.' 

Her passion for reading continued unabated ; and she 
seems to have been allowed to indulge it without con- 
trol, or guidance. As her father's library was very lim- 
ited, she was obliged to borrow and hire books ; the ne- 
cessity of returning them soon led to the habit of making 
copious extracts, and of forming abstracts of what she 
had read ; thus, as is often the case, privation became a 
blessing. The Abbe le Jay, with whom her uncle Bi- 



130 MADAME ROLAND. 

mont boarded, gave her the free use of his library, which 
proved a great resource for her during his life-time ; a 
period of about three years. One of his brothers having 
rained himself, the Abbe lost his senses, and died in 
consequence of a fall from his window. Mademoiselle 
d'Hannaches, a relative who had superintended his house 
for many years, went to board with Madame Phlipon af- 
ter his death. Madame Roland says, ' This lady was tall, 
dry and sallow ; with a shrill voice ; proud of her descent ; 
and tiring everybody with her economy and her pedigree. 
While she was accommodated in my mother's house, 
she was involved in an intricate law-suit concerning 
her inheritance. I was her secretary. I wrote her 
letters, copied her dear genealogy, drew up the petitions, 
which she presented to the president and the attorney- 
general of the parliament, and sometimes accompanied 
her when she went to make interest with persons of 
consequence. I easily perceived that, notwithstanding 
her ignorance, her stiff demeanor, her bad way of ex- 
pressing herself, and her other absurdities, respect was 
paid to her origin. The names of her ancestors (which 
she never failed to repeat) were attended to, and great 
pains were taken to obtain what she desired. I compar- 
ed the honorable reception she met with, to that given 
me, when I went with my grandmother to visit Madame 
de BoismoreL — a visit which had left a deep impression 
on my mind. I could not help feeling my superiority 
over Mademoiselle d'Hannaches, who, with her geneal- 
ogy, and at the age of forty, was unable to write a line 
of common sense, or even a legible hand ; and it ap- 
peared to me that the world was extremely unjust, and 
the institutions of society highly absurd.' 



MADAME ROLAND. 131 

Her independent feelings seem to have been still more 
goaded by occasional visits to the family of Lamotte,, 
connexions of her friend, Sophia Cannet. Proud, stu- 
pid, and intolerant, the various members of this family 
could not forbear making a show of condescension in 
admitting the daughter of an artisan to their acquaint- 
ance ; a condescension which aroused her proud and 
ambitious nature to feelings of contempt, perhaps not 
unmixed with bitterness. She says, ' The opulent M. 
Cannet, seeing the success of a tragedy written by his 
kinsman Belloy, and calculating the profits, exclaimed, 
in sober sadness, " Why did not my father teach me to 
compose tragedies ! I could have worked upon them on 
Sundays and holidays /" Yet these wealthy blockheads, 
these pitiful possessors of purchased nobility, these im- 
pertinent soldiers, these wretched magistrates, consider- 
ed themselves as the props of civil society, and actually 
enjoyed privileges, which merit could not obtain. 

' I compared these absurdities of human arrogance 
with the pictures of Pope, tracing its effects in the arti- 
san, as proud of his leather apron as the king of his 
crown. I endeavored to think, with him, that every 
thing was right ; but my pride told me things were or- 
dered better in a republic. No doubt our situation in 
life has a great influence on our characters and opin- 
ions ; but in the education I received, and in the ideas 
I acquired by study, and by observation of the world, 
everything seemed to combine to inspire me with repub- 
lican enthusiasm, by making me perceive the folly, or 
feel the injustice, of a multitude of privileges and dis- 
tinctions. In all my readings, I took the side of the 
champions of equality. I was Agis and Cleomenes at 



132 MADAME ROLAND. 

Sparta ; the Gracchi at Rome ; and like Cornelia, I 
should have reproached my sons with being called no- 
thing but the mother-in-law of Scipio. I retired with 
the plebeians to the Aventine hill ; and gave my vote to 
the tribunes. Now that experience has taught me to 
appreciate every thing impartially, I see in the enterprise 
of the Gracchi, and in the conduct of the tribunes, 
crimes and mischiefs, of which I was not at the time 
sufficiently aware. 

' When I happened to be present at any of the great 
sights of the Capital, such as the entry of the Queen, 
the Princesses, &c. I compared with grief this Asiatic 
luxury and insolent pomp, with the abject misery of the 
debased populace, who prostrated themselves before idols 
of their own making, and foolishly applauded the osten- 
tatious splendor, which they paid for by depriving them- 
selves of the necessaries of life. I was not insensible 
to the effect of magnificence ; but I felt indignant at its 
being intended to set off a few individuals, already too 
powerful, though in themselves deserving little regard. 

' When my mother took me to Versailles, to show me 
the pageantry of the court, I liked better to look at the 
statues in the gardens, than at the great personages in 
the palace ; and when she asked me if I were pleased 
with the excursion, I replied, ' Yes, if it terminate speed- 
ily ; but if we stay here a few days longer, I shall so 
perfectly detest the people I see, that I shall not know 
what to do with my hatred." " Why," said she, " what 
harm do they do you ?" — " They give me the feeling of 
injustice, and oblige me every moment to contemplate 
absurdity".' 

1 Tt filled me with surprise and indignation to hear 



MADAME ROLAND. 133 

people talk about the dissolute conduct of the court du- 
ring- the last years of Louis XV. and of the immorality, 
which pervaded all ranks of the nation. Not perceiv- 
ing as yet the germs of a revolution, I asked how things 
could exist in such a state. History taught me that the 
corruption of empires was always a prelude of decline ; 
and when I heard the French nation laughing and sing- 
ing at its own misfortunes, I felt that our neighbors were 
right in regarding us as childrem I became familiar 
with the English constitution, and strongly attached to 
English literature, though I at present knew it only 
through the medium of translations. I sighed at the 
recollection of Athens, where I could have enjoyed the 
fine arts, without being annoyed by the sight of despot- 
ism. I was out of all patience at being a Frenchwo- 
man. Enchanted with the golden period of the Gre- 
cian republic, I passed over the storms by which it had 
been agitated ; I forgot the exile of Aristides, the death 
of Socrates, and the condemnation of Phocion. I little 
thought that heaven reserved me to be a witness of sim- 
ilar errors, to profess the same principles, and to parti- 
cipate in the glory of the same persecutions. 

A little anecdote, which Madame Roland relates, 
serves to show how her observing mind learned a lesson 
from the most trivial occurrences, and how adroitly she 
made them bear upon her favorite theories. Being ex- 
tremely fond of rural scenery, she persuaded her father 
to make excursions into the country on Sunday after- 
noons, instead of his usual walks in, the Bois de Bou- 
logne, or the gardens of St Cloud. On some occasions, 
they remained in the country until the next day. One 
8* 



134 MADAME ROLAND. 

night her father attempted to draw the curtains of his 
bed perfectly close, and pulled the strings so hard, that 
the tester fell down upon him, and covered him so com- 
pletely that he could not move. The landlady, being- 
called, was greatly astonished, and exclaimed with much 
simplicity, ' Goodness ! How could this happen ! It is 
seventeen years since the bed was put up ; and in all 
that time it has never budged an inch.' Madame Ro- 
land says, ' The logic of our hostess made me laugh 
more than the fall of the tester. Often afterward, when 
I heard political arguments, I used to whisper to my 
mother. ' This is as good reasoning, as that the bed 
ought not to have given way, when it had remained un- 
disturbed for seventeen years.' 

Her intellect, ever restless, and confident in its own 
energies, began to employ itself in a less profitable 
manner than idolizing the ancients, and fashioning im- 
aginary republics. While residing with her grandmoth- 
er, she read some of the controversial writings of Bos- 
suet, and learned the arguments of unbelievers by his at- 
tempts to refute them. From that time she began to 
make religion a matter of speculation rather than of feel- 
ing. 

c Our meddling intellect 
Misshapes the beauteous forms of things 
We murder to dissect. 1 

With cold and arrogant reason for her guide, she 
passed, through various states of mind, into the dark and 
comfortless regions of utter scepticism. 

The ardor of her character was such, that she always 
identified herself with the persons or parties of which 
she read. Thus when she first entered upon religious 



MADAME ROLAND. 135 

controversy, she became enamored with the austerity of 
the Jansenists, because her frank temper could not abide 
the evasive and flexible faith of the Jesuits. When she 
studied Descartes and Malebranche, she considered her 
kitten merely as a piece of animated mechanism perform- 
ing its movements. When she became acquainted with 
the ancient sects of philosophy, she persuaded herself 
that she was a Stoic ; and tried various experiments to 
prove her contempt for suffering. Succeeding years 
brought before her notice the wild and wicked systems, 
which the French dignified with the title of Philosophy, 
at the period when Anarchy was baptized with the blood 
of Liberty and took her name. Thus the influences a- 
round Madame Roland served to increase her darkness. 
She became a Deist; and sometimes shared the Atheist's 
incredulity. I presume no one was ever able to be al- 
ways an Atheist. Reason, — bewildered at her own 
work, and frightened at her utter loneliness, — still tries 
to grasp at some shadow of belief, even if it be as inde- 
finite as a ' Principle of Agency.' In vain have sys- 
tems of philosophy been based upon the utter selfish- 
ness of mankind, in vain have they ridiculed our hopes 
of immortality. There is that within the human heart, 
— and it comes directly from God, — which will not suf- 
fer us always to disbelieve in better influences than mere 
self-love, and in holier aspirations than the cravings of 
appetite. Men cannot live among their fellow-beings and 
doubt the existence of human virtue ; though perchance 
thgy may choose to call it a ' sublime instinct.' The 
fables and absurd ceremonies, with which the church of 
Rome had become loaded in the course of centuries, no 
doubt had their share in disturbing the early faith of 



136 MADAME ROLAND. 

Madame Roland ; but it is equally true that had she 
kept her heart in all humility, false doctrines, whether 
they took the name of philosophy or of religion, would 
have had no power to mislead her. She says, ' In my 
infancy, I necessarily embraced the creed that was of- 
fered me ; it was mine until my mind was sufficiently 
enlightened to examine it; but even then all my actions 
were in strict conformity with its precepts. I was as- 
tonished at the levity of those, ivho, professing a similar 
faith, acted in a different ivay. 

1 1 attended church, because I would not for the world 
afflict my mother ; and even after her death I continued 
to do so, for the edification of my neighbor and the good 
of society. Divine service, if performed with solemnity, 
affords me pleasure. I forget the quackery of priests, 
their ridiculous fables and absurd mysteries — and see 
nothing but weak mortals assembled together to implore 
the aid of the Supreme Being. If I did not carry to 
church the tender piety of former days, I at least main- 
tained as much decency and attention. I did not indeed 
follow the priest in his recital of the service ; but I read 
some christian work. I always retained a great liking 
for St Augustine. Assuredly there are fathers of the 
church, whom a person may peruse with delight, with- 
out being a bigoted Christian — there is food in them 
both for the heart and the mind.' 

It is evident that the remains of her early piety never 
left her entirely. Her guardian angels lingered around 
her, and she could not wholly shut out from her soul 
the light in which they dwelt. She says, ' It seemed to 
me as if I was dissecting nature, and robbing it of all its 
charms. Can the sublime idea of a Divine Creator, 



MADAME ROLAND. 137 

whose Providence* watches over the world, and the im- 
mortality of the soul, that consolatory hope of persecut- 
ed virtue, — can these be nothing more than splendid 
chimeras ? In how much obscurity are these difficult 
problems involved ! What accumulated objections arise 
when we wish to examine them with mathematical 
rigor ! But why should the man of sensibility repine at 
not being able to demonstrate what he feels to be true ? 
In the silence of the closet, and the dryness of discussion 
I can agree with the atheist, or the materialist ; but when 
I contemplate nature, my soul, full of emotion, soars a- 
loft to the vivifying principle that animates creation, to 
the almighty intellect that pervades it, to the goodness 
that makes it so delightful to our senses ! And now, 
when immense walls separate me from all I love, I see 
the reward of mortal sacrifices beyond the limits of this 
life. How ? In what manner ? I cannot say — I only 
feel that so it must be. 

' I have sometimes been overcome with emotion while 
my heart exalted itself to that supreme intelligence, that 
first cause, that gracious providence, that principle of 
thought and of sentiment, which it felt the necessity of 
believing and of acknowledging. ' Thou, who hast 
placed me on the earth, enable me to fulfil my destina- 
tion in the manner most conformable to the divine will, 
and most beneficial to my fellow-creatures,' This un- 
affected prayer, as simple as the heart that dictated it, 
has become my only one ; never have the doubts of 
philosophy, or the excitements of the world, been able to 
dry up its source. Amid the tumults of society, and in 
the depth of a dungeon, I have pronounced it with equal 
fervor. In the most brilliant circumstances of my life I 



138 MADAME ROLAND, 

uttered it with transport ; and in fetters I repeat it with 
resignation.' 

These expressions plainly show that Madame Ro* 
land's heart was not irreligious, whatever doubts might 
trouble her intellect. 

Madame Roland did not entertain the common, but 
very erroneous idea, that when she left school, educa- 
tion was completed. After her return home, she con- 
tinued to read and study, and never neglected an oppor- 
tunity of learning anything. The various kinds of 
needlework, taught her by her grandmother, served to 
amuse the long evenings, during which her mother usu- 
ally read aloud ; the advantage of this custom was dou- 
bled by her constant habit of writing down, every morn- 
ing, those passages or thoughts, which had struck her 
most forcibly the evening preceding, For some time, 
she continued to take lessons in music and dancing. 
Her father tried to persuade her to give some attention 
to engraving. He offered to share the profits, according 
to a book he wished her to keep ; but from a dislike of 
mercenary motives, or a want of interest in the employ- 
ment, she soon threw aside the graver in disgust. She 
says, ' Nothing was so insipid to me as to engrave the 
edge of a watch-case, or to ornament a bauble ; and I 
cared less about money to buy ribands, than time to read 
good authors.' 

Geometry became her favorite study, and for a time 
she applied herself to it with much industry ; but when 
she came to algebra, she soon grew weary ; and her 
husband could never persuade her that there was any 
thing attractive in reasoning by X and Y. For want of 
other books she studied several works on agriculture 



MADAME £ L A N D> 13$ 

and economy, because she could never be easy unless 
she was learning something. These habits, so different 
from those of her young companions, of course excited 
many remarks. Some called her a prodigy, others a 
pedant ; and her parents were again and again warned 
of the danger of her becoming a blue-stocking. An in* 
telligent traveller, who visited at her father's, used to 
say, in a prophetic tone, ' You may do what you will 
to avoid it, Mademoiselle ; but you will certainly write 
a book.' To which she would reply, ' Then it shall be 
under another name ; for I would sooner cut off my 
fingers, than become an author,' 

She says, ' I was fond of rendering an account of my 
own ideas to myself, and the intervention of my pen as* 
sisted me in putting them in order. When I did not 
employ it, 1 was rather lost in reveries than engaged in 
meditation ; but with my pen I kept my imagination 
within bounds, and pursued a regular . chain of reason- 
ing. Before I was twenty years old, I had begun to 
make some collections, which I have since augmented, 
and entitled The Works of Leisure Hours, and Various 
Reflections. I had nothing further in view than to have 
witnesses of my sentiments, which, on some future day, 
I might confront with one another, so that their grada- 
tions, or their changes, might serve at once as a lesson 
and a record. I have a pretty large packet of these ju- 
venile works piled up in the dusty corner of my library, 
or perhaps in the garret. Never, however, did I feel 
the smallest temptation to become an author. At a very 
early period, I perceived that a woman who acquires the 
title loses far more than she gains. She forfeits the af- 
fection of the male sex, and provokes the criticism of her 



140 MADAME, ROLAND,? 

own. If her works be bad, she is justly ridiculed ; if 
good, her right to them is disputed ; or if envy be com- 
pelled to acknowledge the best part to be her own, her 1 
talents, her morals, and her manners, are scrutinized so 
severely, that the reputation of her genius is fully coun- 
terbalanced by the publicity given to her defects. Be-> 
sides, happiness was my chief concern ; and I never 
knew the public intermeddle with the happiness of any 
individual, without marring it. I know of nothing so 
agreeable as to be rated at our full worth by the people 
with whom we live ; nor anything so empty as the ad- 
miration of a few persons whom we are never likely to 
meet again. I know not what I might have become un- 
der the hands of a skilful preceptor. By applying dili- 
gently to some particular study, I might have extended 
some branch of science, or have acquired talents of a 
superior kind. But should I have been better or more 
useful ? I leave others to resolve the question ; certain 
it is, I could not have been more happy. I know of 
nothing to be compared to that plenitude of life, of tran- 
quillity, of satisfaction, which I enjoyed in those days of 
innocence and study.' 

The following account gives us reason to suppose that 
her vanity was not wounded by her father's appreciation 
of her talents : ' As long as the fine weather lasted, we 
went on holidays to the public walks ; and my father 
regularly carried me to the exhibitions of the fine arts, 
so frequent at Paris in those days of luxury, then called 
prosperity. He enjoyed himself much on these occa- 
sions,when he had it in his power to make an agreeable 
display of his superiority, by pointing out to my obser- 
vation what he understood better than I : and he was as 



MADAME ROLAND. 141 

proud of the taste I discovered, as if it were his own 
work. That was our point of contact — in those cases 
we were truly in unison. My father never lost an op- 
portunity of showing - himself to advantage ; and he was 
evidently fond of being seen in public with a well-dress- 
ed young woman, whose blooming appearance frequent- 
ly produced a murmur of admiration grateful to his 
ears. If any one accosted him, doubtful of the relation 
in which we stood to each other, he would say, 'My 
daughter' — with an air of modest triumph, which affect- 
ed me, without making me vain, for I ascribed it entire- 
ly to parental affection. If I spoke, he looked around to 
watch the effect of my voice, or of the good sense I might 
have uttered, and seemed to ask if he had not reason to 
be proud. I was sensible of these things ; and they 
sometimes made me more timid, without producing any 
awkward feeling ; it seemed incumbent upon me to make 
amends for my father's pride by my own modesty.' 

In the following account of her person the fear of im- 
puted vanity seems to have been no restraint upon en- 
tire frankness : ' At fourteen years of age, I had attain- 
ed my full height. My stature was five feet and nearly 
four inches, English measure. My constitution was as 
vigorous as that of a prize-fighter ; my carriage was 
firm and graceful ; and my walk was light and quick. 
My face had nothing striking in it, except a great deal 
of color, and much softness and expression. On exam- 
ining each feature, it might be asked, " Where is the 
beauty ?" Not a single one is regular, and yet all 
please. My mouth is a little wide, — you may see 
prettier every day, — but you will see none with a smile 
more tender or engaging. My eyes are not very large, 



142 MADAME ROLAND. 

and the color of the iris is hazel ; they are sufficiently 
prominent, and are crowned with well-arched eyebrows, 
which, like my hair, are of a dark brown. My look is 
frank, animated, and tender, varying in its expression,, 
like the affectionate heart of which it indicates the 
movements : serious and lofty, it sometimes astonishes i 
but it charms much more, and never fails to keep atten- 
tion awake. My nose gave me some uneasiness — I 
thought it a little too full at the end ; but taken with 
the rest, especially in profile, the effect is not amiss. 
My forehead, broad and high, — with the hair retiring, 
supported by a very elevated orbit of the eye, and mark- 
ed by veins in the form of a r, that dilated on the slight- 
est emotion, — was far from making such an insignifi- 
cant figure, as it does in many faces. My complexion 
was rather clear than fair ; and the freshness of my 
color was frequently heightened by the sudden flush of 
a rapid circulation, excited by the most irritable nerves. 
I had a smooth skin, a well-turned arm, and a hand 
which, without being small, is elegant, because its long, 
taper fingers give it grace, and indicate address. My 
teeth are white and regular ; and I had the plumpness 
of perfect health. Such are the gifts, with which na- 
ture had endowed me. I have lost many of them ; par- 
ticularly the fulness of my form, and the bloom of my 
complexion ; but those which remain still hide five of 
six years of my age, without any assistance from art ; 
people who are in the daily habit of seeing me will 
hardly believe me to be more than two or three and 
thirty. It is only since my beauty began to fade, that I 
know what was its extent ; while in its freshness, I was 
unconscious of its value, which was probably augment- 



MADAME ROLAND. 143 

ed by my ignorance. I do not regret its loss, because 
I have never abused it ; but I certainly should not be 
sorry, provided my duty could be reconciled with my 
inclination, to turn the portion that remains to better 
account than my present situation admits. My portrait 
has been frequently drawn, painted, and engraved ; but 
none of these imitations gives a correct idea of my per- 
son.^ My likeness is very hard to hit, because the ex- 
pression of my soul is more strongly marked than the 
lines of my countenance. An artist of common abili- 
ties cannot represent this ; possibly he does not even 
see it. My face acquires animation in proportion to the 
interest with which I am inspired, in the same manner 
as my mind is developed in proportion to the minds 
with which I communicate. I am so stupid with some 
people, that, upon perceiving my readiness with people 
of wit, I have thought, in the simplicity of my heart, 
that I was indebted to their cleverness. I generally 
please, because I am fearful of offending ; but it is not 
given to all to find me handsome, or to discover what I 
am worth. I can suppose that an old coxcomb, enam- 
ored of himself, and vain of displaying the slender stock 
of science he has been so long acquiring, might be in 
the habit of seeing me for ten years without suspecting 
I could do more than cast up a bill, or cut out a shirt. 
It was not without reason that Camille Desmoulins was 
astonished that " at my age, and with so little beauty," 
I still had what he calls adorers. I never spoke to him 
in my life ; but it is probable that, with a personage of 
his stamp, I should be cold and silent, if not absolutely 
repulsive. He was wrong in supposing me to hold a 
* The cameo of Langlois is said to have been least defective. 



144 MADAME ROLAND. 

court. I hate gallants, as much as I despise slaves ; 
and I know perfectly well how to get rid of a flatterer. 
"What I want is esteem and good will ; admire me af- 
terward, if you please ; hut esteem and affection I must 
have, at any rate : this seldom fails with those who see 
me often, and who at the same time possess a heart and 
a sound understanding. 

My earnest desire to please, comhined with my youth- 
ful bashfulness and the austerity of my principles, diffu- 
sed a peculiar charm over my person and manner : 
nothing could he more decent than my garb, or more 
modest than my deportment ; though I aspired to noth- 
ing beyond neatness in my dress, the greatest commen- 
dations were bestowed upon my good taste.' 

She informs us that suitors came in crowds, like bees 
around a newly-expanded flower, and says, ' I shall 
describe the rising of my lovers en masse, as is proper 
in these days when everything is done en masse.' Her 
Spanish music-master, her dancing-master (an ugly 
little Savoyard), three jewellers, and two young advo- 
cates, were all rejected. She came very near marrying 
a physician, strongly recommended by her friends. It 
is no wonder that instances of domestic virtue and hap- 
piness were rare in a country in which matrimonial en- 
gagements were managed as she describes. She says, 
* The pecuniary arrangements were made before I knew 
anything of the matter, and the bargain was absolutely 
concluded when I first heard that a physician had entered 
the lists. The profession did not displease me ; it 
promised an enlightened mind ; but it was necessary to 
become acquainted with his person. We met for the 
first time, accidentally, as I supposed, at a house where 



MADAME ROLAND. 145 

we had taken shelter from the rain. My cousin, who 
had first projected the match, was with us. She assu- 
med an air of triumph, as if she would have said, ' 1 did 
not tell you she was handsome ; but what do you think 
of her V My good mother looked kind and pensive. 
Our hostess was equally profuse of her wit and con- 
fectionery. The physician chattered away, and made 
great havoc among the sugar-plums ; saying, with a sort 
of school-boy gallantry, that he was very fond of every- 
thing sweet; upon which the young lady observed with 
a soft voice, a blush, and a half smile, that the men 
were accused of loving sweet things, because it was ne- 
cessary to make use of great sweetness in dealing with 
them. The cunning doctor was quite tickled with the 
epigram. My father would willingly have given us his 
benediction on the spot, and was so polite that I was 
out of all patience with him. The doctor retired first, 
to pay his evening visits ; we returned as we came , 
and this was called an interview. My cousin, a strict 
observer of punctilios, so ordered it because, forsooth, a 
man, who has views of marriage, ought never to set his 
foot in a private house, where there is a daughter, until 
his proposals are accepted ; but when once that is done, 
the marriage articles are to be signed directly, and the 
wedding to follow immediately. The doctor, in the ha- 
biliments of his profession, did not please me ; I never, 
at any period of my life, could figure to myself such a 
thing as love in a periwig. My mother urged me to 
decide at once. " What !" I exclaimed, " on the 
strength of a single interview ?" " Not exactly that," 
she replied ; " M. de Gardanne's intimacy with our 
9 



146 MADAME ROLAND. 

family enables us to judge of his conduct and way of 
life ; and, by means of a little inquiry, we shall easily 
come at a knowledge of his disposition. These are the 
principal points. The sight of the person is of very lit- 
tle consequence. You have attained the proper age to 
settle in the world ; you have refused many offers from 
tradesmen, and they are the class of people from whom 
your situation makes it most likely that offers will come. 
You seem determined never to marry a man in busi- 
ness. The present match is suitable in every external 
point of view. Take care not to reject it too lightly." ' 
Thus urged, Mademoiselle consented to see the doctor 
at her father's house ; determined, however, in her own 
mind that no power on earth should make her marry 
him, unless she liked him. Luckily, she was saved all 
further trouble by a dispute between her lover and his 
intended father-in-law. 

M. Phlipon thought more of money than any other 
consideration ; he was anxious that his daughter should 
marry a thriving man of business. She exclaimed, 
' Have I then lived with Plutarch, and all the other phi- 
losophers, to no better purpose than to connect myself 
for life with a shopkeeper, incapable of seeing anything 
in the same light as myself ! Tell me, papa, why you 
suffered me to contract habits of study ! I know not 
whom I shall marry ; but it must be one who can share 
my thoughts, and sympathize with my pursuits.' He 
replied, • There are men of business possessed of polite- 
ness and information.' ' That may be ; but it is not of 

the kind I want.' ' Do you not suppose that M and 

his wife are happy ? They have just retired from busi- 
ness, keep an excetlent house, and receive the best of 



MADAME ROLAND. 147 

company.' * I am no judge of other people's happiness ; 
but my own affections are not fixed upon riches. I con- 
ceive, that the strictest union of hearts is requisite to 
conjugal felicity. I cannot connect myself with a man 
who does not resemble me. My husband must be my 
superior ; since both nature and the laws give him the 
pre-eminence, I should be ashamed of him if he did not 
really deserve it.' 'I suppose you want a Counsellor. 
But women are not generally happy with those learned 
gentlemen. They have a great deal of pride, and very 
little money.' ' Papa, I do not care about such or such 

a profession. I wish to marry a man I can love.' 

1 But you persist in thinking such a man will never be 
found in trade. It is however a pleasant thing for a 
woman to sit at ease in her own apartment, while her 
husband is carrying on a lucrative trade. Now, there's 
Madame Dargens — she understands diamonds as well 
as her husband. She can make good bargains in his 
absence, and could carry on all his business perfectly 
well, if she were left a widow. You are intelligent ; 
and you understand that branch of business, since you 
studied the treatise on precious stones. You might do 
whatever you please. A happy life you would have 
had, if you could but have fancied Delorme, Dabrieul, 
or ' ' Hark ye, papa, I have discovered that the on- 
ly way to make a fortune in trade is by selling dear 
what has been bought cheap ; by overcharging the cus- 
tomer and beating down the poor workman. I could 
never descend to such practices ; nor could I respect a 
man, who made them his occupation from morning till 
night.' ' Do you then suppose there are no honest 
tradesmen V 'I presume there are ; but the number is 



148 MADAME ROLAND. 

not large ; and among them I am not likely to find a 
husband, who will sympathize with me.' ' And what 
will you do, if you do not find the idol of your imagin- 
ation V 'I will live single.' ' Perhaps that will not be 
so pleasant as you imagine. There is time enough yet, 
to be sure ; but ennui will come at last ; the crowd of 
lovers will be gone by ; and, you know the fable.' — 
' Oh, I would take my revenge by deserving happiness 
from the very injustice that would deprive me of it.' — 
1 Now you are in the clouds again. It is very pleasant 
to soar to such a height ; but it is not easy to keep the 
elevation.' 

Not long after this conversation, a circumstance oc- 
curred, which gave her father a pleasant opportunity of 
humbling what he considered her romantic ideas. I will 
relate it in her own words : ' I have already said that 
my judicious mother wished me to be as much at home 
in the kitchen as in the drawing room ; and at market 
as in the public walk. After my return from the con- 
vent, I often used to accompany her when she went out 
to purchase household articles ; and as I grew older, 
she sometimes sent me on such errands, attended by a 
maid. The butcher, with whom she dealt, had lost a 
second wife ; and found himself, while still in the prime 
of life, possessed of fifty thousand crowns. I was ig- 
norant of all these particulars. I only perceived that I 
was well served, and with abundant civility ; and was 
much surprised at seeing this personage frequently ap- 
pear on Sunday in a handsome suit of black, with lace 
ruffles, in the same walk with ourselves, and put him- 
self in my mother's way ; to whom he always made a 
low bow without accosting her. This practice continu- 



M A i) A M £ k'OUNfib 14$ 

ed a whole summer. I fell sick } and every morning 
the butcher sent to inquire what we wanted, and to of* 
fer any accommodation in his power. These pointed 
attentions began to provoke my father's smiles. Wish* 
ing to divert himself, he one day introduced me to a 
Woman, who came to demand my hand in the butcher's 
name. " You know, daughter," said he with great grav* 
ity, " that I make it a rule to lay no constraint upon 
your inclinations. I shall therefore only state to you a 
proposal, in which you are principally concerned." A 
little vexed that my father's good-humor should turn 
over to me the task of giving an answer, which he ought 
to have taken Upon himself, I screwed up my mouth to 
parody his mode of expression. " You know, papa," I 
replied, " that I am very happy in my present situation, 
and resolved not to quit it for some years to come. You 
may take any steps you think proper in conformity to 
this resolution." As I said this, I withdrew. 

' The respectable character of my mother, the appear* 
lance of some fortune, and my being an only child, made 
the project of matrimony a tempting one to a number 
of persons, who were strangers to me* The greater 
part, finding it difficult to obtain an introduction, adopt* 
ed the expedient of writing to my parents. These let* 
ters Were always shown to me* My first opinion was 
always grounded upon the character of the epistles* 
without any regard to the statements they contained of 
the writer's rank and fortune. I wrote the answers to 
these letters, which my father faithfully copied. When 
writing was in question, he was as tractable as a child, 
and sat down to transcribe without the least reluctance* 
9* 



1 50 MADAME EOLAND. 

I was much amused at the idea of acting the papa. 1 
discussed my own interests with all the gravity suitable 
to the occasion, and in a style of prudence truly paren- 
tal. I caused my suitors to be dismissed with dignity, 
without giving room for resentment or hope. Where 
there was not a large fortune, either possessed or ex- 
pected, my father easily approved of my refusal ; but 
where one of those requisites was found, he was much 
concerned at my rejection of the proffered advantage. — 
Here began to break out those dissensions between my 
father and me, which continued ever after. He loved 
and respected commerce, because he regarded it as the 
source of riches ; I detested and despised it, because I 
considered it as the foundation for avarice and fraud. 

1 My mother's health began to decline insensibly. She 
had a stroke of the palsy, which they tried to make me 
believe was the rheumatism. Serious and taciturn, she 
every day lost a portion of her vivacity, and grew more 
fond of secluding herself from the world. She often 
lamented that I could not prevail on myself to accept 
any of the offers I received. One day in particular, she 
urged me, with melancholy earnestness, to marry an 
honest jeweller, who solicited my hand. " He has in 
his favor," said she, " great reputation for integrity, so< 
briety, and mildness of disposition, He has an easy 
fortune, which may become brilliant ; and that circum- 
stance makes part of the merit of a man, who is not re- 
markable for his personal advantages. He knows that 
yours is not a common mind. He professes great es- 
teem for you ; and will no doubt be proud of following 
your advice. You might lead him in any way you 
like." " But, mamma, I do not want a husband who is 



MADAME ROLAND. 151 

to be led ; he would be too cumbersome a child for me 
to take care of."—" Do you know that you are a very 
whimsical girl ? You would not like a master."—" I 
certainly should not like to have a man give himself airs 
of authority, because that would only teach me to resist; 
but I am sure I should not like a husband whom it would 
be necessary to govern ; I should be ashamed of my own 
power."—" I understand, you would like to have a man 
think himself the master, while he obeyed you in every 
thing." — " No, it is not that, either. I hate servitude, 
but empire would only embarrass me. I wish to gain 
the affections of a man, who would make his happiness 
consist in contributing to mine in the way that his good 
sense and regard for me might dictate." — " My daughter, 
there would hardly be such a thing in the world as a 
happy couple, if happiness could not exist without such 
a perfect conformity of taste and opinions as you imag- 
ine." — " I do not know of a single one whose happiness 
I envy." — " But among those matches you do not envy, 
there may be some preferable to always living single. 
I may be called out of the world sooner than you imag- 
ine. Your father is still young ; and you cannot imag- 
ine all the disagreeable things my fondness for you 
makes me fear. How happy should I be, could 1 see 
you united to an honest man, before I depart this life !" 
1 The idea of such an event struck me with terror. 
I had never thought of losing my mother — a shivering 
seized my whole frame — and as she tried to smile at 
my wild and eager gaze, I burst into a flood of tears. 
" Do not be alarmed," said she tenderly ; " I am not dan- 
gerously ill ; but in taking our resolutions, we ought to 
calculate all possible chances, A worthy man offers 



152 MADAME £ L A N £> . 

you his hand ; you are turned of twenty, and cannot ex- 
pect so many suitors as you have had for the last five' 
years; I may be suddenly snatched from you; do not 
then reject a husband, who, it is true, has not all the re- 
finement you wish, but who will love you, and w T ith 
whom you can be happy." " Yes, mamma," said I, with 
a deep sigh, " as happy as you have been." My mother 
was disconcerted ; she made me no reply ; nor did she 
ever after open her lips to urge me on the subject of my 
marriage. The remark escaped me as the expression of 
an acute feeling will sometimes escape us, before we take 
time to reflect ; the effect it produced convinced me it 
was too true. 

' A stranger might have perceived, at the first glance* 
that there was a great difference between my father and 
mother ; but even I had never fully calculated all she 
must have suffered. Accustomed to profound peace in 
the house, I could not judge the painful efforts it must 
sometimes have cost her to maintain it. My father lov- 
ed his wife, and Was tenderly fond of me. Not even a 
look of discontent ever broke in upon the good humor of 
my mother. When she was not of her husbandVopin- 
ion and could not prevail upon him to modify it, she al- 
ways yielded her own without the least appearance of 
reluctance. It was only during the latter years of her 
life, that feeling myself hurt by my father's mode of rea- 
soning, I sometimes took the liberty to interfere in the 
discussion. By degrees, I gained a certain sort of as- 
cendence, and availed myself of it with considerable free- 
dom. Whether it were the novelty of my enterprise 
that confounded him, or whether it were weakness, I knew 
not ; but my father yielded to me more readily than to 



MADAME ROLAND. 153 

his wife. I always exerted my influence in her defence, 
and might not unaptly have been termed my mother's 
watch-dog. It was no longer safe to molest her in my 
presence ; either by barking, or by pulling the skirt of 
the coat, or by showing my teeth in good earnest, I was 
sure to make the assailant let go his hold. But wtoen 
we were alone, not a word was ever said, by either of us, 
inconsistent with the most perfect respect. For her 
sake, I could enter the lists even against her husband ; 
but when that husband was absent, he was no longer 
anything but my father, about whom we were both si- 
lent, unless there was something to praise. I could per- 
ceive, however, that by degrees he lost his industry. 
Ambition is generally fatal to all classes of men ; multi- 
tudes become its victims where one is crowned with suc- 
cess. My father was happy and prosperous, while he 
was satisfied with moderate gains ; but the desire of mak- 
ing a fortune engaged him in speculations quite foreign 
to his profession ; and that desire made him set every- 
thing at hazard. Parish business was the first thing 
that called him from home ; and sauntering abroad af- 
terward became a passion. All public spectacles, and 
everything that was passing out of doors, attracted his 
attention ; connexions at the coffee-house led him else- 
where ; and the lottery held out temptations he could 
not resist. In propoition as his art was less exercised, 
his talents diminished ; his sight grew weak, and his 
hand lost its steadiness. These changes took place by 
degrees. My mother grew very pensive, and could not 
always conceal her anxiety. I forebore speaking of 
what neither she nor I could prevent. I was careful to 
procure her every satisfaction that depended upon me. 



154 MADAME ROLAND. 

I sometimes consented to leave her, in order to persuade 
my father to walk with me. He no longer sought to 
have me with him ; but he still took pleasure in attend- 
ing me. I used to bring him back, m a sort of triumph, 
to that excellent mother, whose tender emotions I could 
eateily perceive, whenever she saw us both together. 
We were not always gainers by it ; for my father, that he 
might neither refuse his daughter, nor be disappointed 
of his pleasures, would first see me safe home, and then 
go out again, for an instant, as he said ; but he would 
forget the hour, and not return until midnight ; in the 
meantime we had been weeping in silence.' 

This was a sad prospect for a wife and mother, sink- 
ing into the tomb faster than her anxious daughter was 
aware of. Just before Whitsuntide, 1775, it was agreed 
that the family should take one of their customary ex- 
cursions into the country. Mademoiselle Phlipon was 
troubled with a broken and uneasy sleep, during which 
she had an ill-omened dream, that seems to have made 
an impression on her mind quite inconsistent with the 
scepticism she professed. She thought she was return- 
ing to Paris in the midst of a storm ; and that, upon 
getting out of the boat, a corpse impeded her way. 
Terrified at the sight, she was endeavoring to ascertain 
whose body it could be ; when her mother laid her 
hand lightly upon her, and in her soft voice reminded 
her that it was time to rise for their excursion. The 
sleeper awoke much agitated ; and embraced her moth- 
er as fervently, as if she had rescued her from some 
real danger. The weather was fine, the little boat car- 
ried them safely to the place of destination, and the quiet 
of the rural scenery soon restored serenity to her mind. 



MADAME ROLAND. 155 

Her mother was better for the journey, and resumed 
something of her former activity. Mademoiselle Phli- 
pon had promised her friend Agatha that she would 
visit the convent. Her mother intended to accompany 
her ; but being fatigued with previous exertion, she 
changed her mind at the moment of starting, and pro- 
posed to send the maid with her. Her daughter then 
wished to stay at home ; but Madame Phlipon insisted 
that she should keep her promise to her friends at the 
convent ; and advised her to take a turn in the Jardin 
du Roi, before she returned. > 

The visit to Agatha was very brief. ' Why are you 
in such haste ?' asked the nun. ' I am anxious to re- 
turn to my mother:' ' But you told me she was well.' 
■ — ' She is better than usual ; but something torments 
me; I shall not be easy till I see her again.' Her man- 
ner of taking leave was so singular, that sister Agatha 
begged to hear from her immediately. She hurried 
home, notwithstanding the observation of the maid that 
a walk in the Jardin du Roi would be extremely plea- 
sant. A little girl at the door informed her that her 
mother was very ill. She flew into the room, and found 
her almost lifeless. She tried to embrace her child ; 
but one arm only obeyed the impulse of her will ; and 
with that she wiped away the tears, and gently patted 
her cheek in a vain effort to comfort her. She tried to 
tell how impatiently she had expected her ; but palsy 
tied her tongue, and she could only utter uncouth 
sounds. 

As long as there was any demand for her activity, 
Mademoiselle Phlipon never lost her energy, nor her 
presence of mind ; but, when the priest came to admin- 



156 MADAME ROLAND. 

ister the sacrament to the dying, and she attempted to 
hold the light, with her eyes, rivetted on her beloved 
parent, anguish proved too strong for nature, and she 
fell senseless on the floor. From this state she awoke 
to find that her mother was dead. Sorrow for a time 
made her perfectly delirious. During one of her faint- 
ing fits, they conveyed her to the house of one of her 
relatives. For eight days, she was unable to shed a 
tear ; she was often seized with strong convulsions, and 
the physicians thought her life was in great danger. At 
last a letter from her friend Sophia made her weep ; 
and the alarming symptoms abated ; a renewal of the 
fits was, however, for several weeks produced by any 
circumstance that served to remind her of her loss. 
Her father tried to comfort her by telling her what a 
blessing it was that her mother had lived to educate 
her ; and that, if she must lose one of her parents, it 
was better the one should remain, who could most ben- 
efit her fortune. This consolatory argument, so little 
suited to her character and condition, only served to 
aggravate her grief. She felt that her father could 
never understand her, and that she was entirely an or- 
phan. Speaking of her mother, she says, ' The world 
never contained a better, or more amiable woman. 
Nothing brilliant rendered her remarkable, but every- 
thing tended to endear her, as soon as she was known. 
Naturally wise and good, virtue never seemed to cost 
her any effort. Her pure and tranquil spirit pursued its 
even course like the docile stream that bathes with equal 
gentleness the foot of the rock, which holds it captive, 
and the valley, which it at once enriches and adorns. 
With her death concluded the tranquillity of my youth- 



MADAME ROLAND. 157 

ful existence, passed in the enjoyment of blissful af- 
fections and beloved occupations.' 

The relatives of Mademoiselle Phlipon tried to cheer 
her spirits by inviting everybody with whom she was 
acquainted ; but she had so little power of attending to 
others that she sometimes appeared insane. If any- 
thing happened, however remotely, to remind her of her 
mother's image, she shrieked and fainted away. ' It is 
a good thing to possess sensibility, it is unfortunate to 
have so much of it,' said her friend, the Abbe Legrand. 
He had sagacity enough to perceive that it was wise to 
talk to her a good deal about her mother, in order that 
her mind might freely unburthen itself of a subject 
alike interesting and oppressive. As soon as he thought 
she could fix her attention on a book, he brought her 
Rousseau's Heloise. It is not a volume I should have 
thought of selecting to afford consolation to a mourner ; 
but she says the interest with which she read it was the 
first alleviation of her. sorrow. 

When she returned home, she found .hat her moth- 
er's portrait had been removed ; from the mistaken idea 
that the vacant space it once occupied would be less 
painful to her than the image of her deceased parent. 
Her first care was to have it restored. 

Her excessive grief excited a good deal of attention. 
It was thought a very remarkable thing that filial regret 
should endanger the life of a young woman. Among 
the marks of regard she received at this time, the most 
flattering was from M. de Boismorel, son of the lady to 
whom she took such a dislike in her childhood. Her 
father, flattered by M. de Boismorel's good opinion of 
his daughter, could not refrain from showing him some 



158 MADAME ROLAND. 

of her writings, one day when she was absent. She 
was a good deal offended at this attack upon her private 
property ; but was soothed by a very flattering letter 
from M. de Boismorel, offering the use of his library at 
all times. She says this was the first time her self-love 
was gratified by finding herself appreciated by one on 
whose judgment she placed a high value. A friendly 
correspondence continued between them during his life ; 
by means of which she was constantly acquainted with 
the novelties of the literary and scientific world. He 
advised her to commence author in good earnest, after 
having deliberately chosen the line of literature best 
suited to her taste. In answer to this proposition she 
represented to him her disinterested love of study, and 
her aversion to appearing before the public. In this 
reply she wrote the following verses : 

Aux hommes ouvrant la carriSre 
Des grands et des nobles talents, 

lis n'ont mis aucune barriere 
A leur plus sublimes £lans. 

De mon sexe foible et sensible, 

lis ne veulent que des vertus ; 

Nous pouvons imiter Titus, 
Mais dans un sentier moins penible 

Jouissez du bien d'etre admis 

A toutes ces sortes de gloire ; 

Pour nous le temple .de memoire 
Est dans les cosurs de nos amis. 

These lines have been translated with something 
more of vigorous thought, though with less smoothness 
in the versification : 



MADAME ROLAND. 159 

To man's aspiring sex 'tis given 

To climb the highest hill of fame, 
To tread the shortest road to heaven, 

And gain by death a deathless name. 

Of well-fought fields, and trophies won, 

The memory lives while ages pass, 
Graven on everlasting stone, 

Or written on retentive brass. 

But to poor feeble woman-kind 

The meed of glory is denied ; 
Within a narrow sphere confined, 

The lowly virtues are their pride. 

Yet not deciduous is their fame, 

Ending where frail existence ends ; 
A sacred temple holds their name — 

The hearts of their surviving friends. 

M. de Boismorel had so high an opinion of his young 
friend, that notwithstanding the difference of rank, he 
cherished the wish of uniting her to his son, who was 
younger than she was, and being indolent and inconsid- 
erate, seemed to need a decided and judicious wife. 
Mademoiselle Phlipon however did not take a fancy to 
this young sprig of aristocracy ; and her discreet friend 
had too much delicacy to make regular proposals to her 
father, which he knew she would be painfully urged to 
accept. 

The young lady, finding her parental home a desolate 
place, did sometimes feel a sensation of melancholy, 
when she cast her eyes around upon her acquaintance 
without finding one at all suited to her taste. A young 
lawyer, who had once been rejected, renewed his visits ; 
and her romantic sensibility gradually invested him with 
powerful attractions. Her father, at first, made it a rule 



160 MADAME ROLAND. 

to stay in the room when any gentleman came ; but 
finding it very dull business to act the duenna, he shut 
his door against everybody, except those whose age and 
gravity rendered his presence unnecessary. Mademoi- 
selle Phlipon wrote to her lover that it was her father's 
wish that he should discontinue his visits, but left him 
reason to conclude that they were by no means unpleas- 
ant to her. This romance lasted but a short time. Her 
friend, Sophia Cannet, came to visit her ; and having 
met the young lawyer in the gardens of the Luxem- 
bourg, she pointed him out as a notorious fortune-hun- 
ter, who had proposed himself to so many only daugh- 
ters, that the heiresses had agreed to bestow upon him 
the title of lover of the eleven thousand virgins ; this 
name had reference to a legend told in the convents, of 
the miraculous martyrdom of eleven thousand virgins. 
This account dispelled the illusions of sentiment. The 
young man, having formed an acquaintance with a girl 
reputed to have more fortune, troubled her no further 
for several months ; at the end of which time, he had 
the audacity to call and request her assistance in a liter- 
ary project he had undertaken ; he was received with a 
stinging contempt, which soon terminated his" visit. 
This man was La Blancherie, afterward Agent of the 
Correspondence for forwarding the Arts and Sciences. 

After the death of her mother, Mademoiselle Phlipon 
was most affectionately attended by a beloved cousin, 
named Madame Trude. This lady had a vulgar and 
brutal husband, entirely unworthy of her ; her unhappi- 
ness was considerably increased by his daring to enter- 
tain a violent passion for her cousin. As Trude had no 
children, and had some fortune, M. Phlipon was anx- 



MADAME* ROLAND . 161 

ious to be particularly polite to him ; and this circum- 
stance increased the embarrassment of his daughter's 
situation. She tried to bear with him for the sake of his 
worthy wife ; but his attentions at last became insuppor- 
table. In plain terms she asked him to confine his vis- 
its to her father; but she says if she had thrown him 
out of the window, he Would have come back by the 
chimney. Sometimes, on Sundays^ she sent away the 
maid, and fastened every door and window, to be free 
from his interruptions ; and after walking round the 
house two or three hours, he would reluctantly retire. 
She used to manage visits to his wife, at the house of 
one of their aged relations. Although the dignity of 
her deportment prevented this man from ever saying 
anything offensive to modesty, yet his manners and con- 
versation were so much at variance with propriety and 
good-breeding, that he was a perpetual torment to her. 
From these connexions her pride met with a severe trial ; 
and the manner in which she conducted herself does 
credit to the strength of her character. Madame Trude 
was compelled to leave home for a few weeks ; but her 
surly husband would not consent that she should leave 
his counter, unless Mademoiselle Phlipon would agree 
to take her place, in the middle of the day, when cus* 
tomers would be most likely to come in. Madame 
Trude begged her to accede to this proposition ; and she 
felt that the obligations she owed to her cousin's friend- 
ship rendered it a duty. Trude, highly delighted, and 
not a little proud, conducted with great propriety, and 
his wife was deeply grateful for the kindness. Thus 
Madame Roland says, ' In spite of my aversion to trade, 
10 



162 MADAME* ROLAND. 

it was decreed that, at one time in my life, I should sell 
watch-glasses and spectacles. The situation was not a- 
greeable. I can conceive nothing more dreadful, to a 
person standing* in an open shop, than the noise of car- 
riages eternally rolling along. I should soon have been 
deaf, as my poor cousin Trude now is.' 

At this period of her life, she had occasional glimpses 
of the great world, through the friendship of M. de Bois- 
morel. His proud mother began to think her of more 
consequence than she had formerly done ; and gave her 
occasional invitations to visit at her house. She some- 
times complains that" the company invited to meet them 
was better suited to her father than herself ; but when 
she did meet with any of the nobility, she seems to have 
regarded them with all her early dislike. She says, 
4 The old marquises and antiquated dowagers certainly 
talked with more importance than church-wardens and 
sober cits, but to me they appeared quite as insipid. 

' Madame de Boismorel eulogized my taste in dress. 
" You don't love feathers, do you, Mademoiselle ? Ah, 
how different you are from giddy-headed girls ! " "I 
never wear feathers, madam, because I think they would 
announce a condition in life, that does not belong to an 
artist's daughter, going about on foot."—" But would 
you wear them if you were in a different situation ? "— 
" I do not know whether I should or not. I attach very 
little importance to such trifles. 1 merely consider what 
is suitable to myself; and should be very sorry to judge 
of others by the superficial information afforded by their 
dress." The answer was severe ; but its point was 
blunted by the soft tone of voice in which it was pro- 
nounced. I was like the good man, of whom Madame 



MADAME ROLAND* 163 

de Sevigne said that the love of his neighbor cut off 
half his words. A fondness for satire indicates a mind 
pleased with irritating others ; for myself, I never could 
find amusement in killing flies. I deserved the charac- 
ter given me by one of my friends, that though possess- 
ed of wit to point an epigram, I never suffered one to 
escape my lips.' 

Madame Roland gives an account of a visit to a weal* 
thy family, which is interesting, as it serves to show the 
state of things in France at that period. One of her 
connexions had married M. Besnard, who had been a 
steward in the family of M. Haudry, a rich financier* 
Old Madame Phlipon was highly offended at this mar- 
riage ; but Madame Roland says, ' I esteem it an honor 
to be related to M. Besnard ; and I should do so, if, with 
the same character and conduct, he had been a footman. 
In his attachment to his wife he showed the greatest 
delicacy of sentiment ; it is impossible to carry venera* 
tion and tenderness to a greater length. Enjoying the 
sweets of a perfect union, they live in their old age like 
Baucis and Philemon, attracting the respect of all who 
witness the simplicity and excellence of their lives.' 

As Mademoiselle Phlipon's health was considered 
precarious, the physicians advised change of air ; and 
it was agreed that she and her aunt Angelica should 
visit M. Besnard at Fontenay,near the chateau of Souch 
The family at the chateau, hearing of their arrival, call- 
ed to see them. Madame Penault (whose daughter had 
married Haudry's son) allowed something of condescen- 
sion to mix with her politeness ; while the conscious- 
ness of worth, and the doubt of its being perceived by 
others, gave unusual dignity to the artist's daughter.— 



164 MADAME ROLAND. 

The strangers were invited to dine. Madame Holand 
says, ' Never was astonishment equal to mine, when I 
learnt that we were not to dine at her table, but with 
the upper servants in the hall. I was sensible, however, 
that as M. Besnard had formerly played a part there, I 
ought not to appear dissatisfied, out of respect to him. 
I thought Madame Penault might have spared us the 
contemptuous civility ; my great^aunt had the same o- 
pinion ; but to avoid giving offence, we accepted the in- 
vitation. It was something entirely new to me to mix 
with those deities of the second order ; I had no idea 
what chambermaids were, when they undertook to give 
themselves airs of consequence. They acted their su- 
periors well. Dress, gesture, affectation, — nothing was 
forgotten. The caricature of fashionable manners su- 
peradded a sort of elegance, not less foreign to mercan- 
tile simplicity, than to the taste of an artist. It was still 
worse with the men. The sword of the steward, the 
attentions of the cook, and the gaudy clothes of the val- 
et-de-chambre, could not atone for the vulgarity of their 
expressions, when they forgot their parts, or for the blun- 
ders they made when they wished their language to be 
elegant. The conversation was full of marquises and 
counts, whose titles seemed to confer grandeur on those 
who talked of them. Play followed the repast ; the 
stake was high ; it was what the ladies were accus- 
tomed to play for, and they played every day. I was 
introduced to a new world, in which were exhibited the 
vices, prejudices, and follies of the fashionable w r orld, — 
very little better in reality, notwithstanding its greater 
show. 

Young Haudry was a spoiled child of fortune, with 



MADAME ROLAND. 165 

! 

an erect carriage, and the airs of a great man ; perhaps * 
he was amiable among those he esteemed his equals ; 
but I hated to come in his way, and always assumed 
an air of dignified reserve when he approached. I had 
heard of the origin of old Haudry a hundred times : 
He came from his village to Paris, and, by raking 
together thousands, at the expense of the public, found 
means to marry his grand-daughters to Counts and 
Marquises. I recollected Montesquieu's expression, that 
' financiers support the state, as the cord supports the 
criminal.' I could not help thinking that the govern- 
ment must be detestable, and the nation very corrupt 
where tax-gatherers make their opulence a means of 
alliance with families, which court-policy affects to con- 
sider as necessary to the defence and splendor of the 
kingdom. I little thought then, that there could be a 
government more horrible — a degree of corruption 
still more to be deplored. Who indeed could have im- 
agined it, before the days of Danton and Eobespierre V 
The dissipated habits of M. Phlipon were somewhat 
checked by the death of his excellent wife ; but after a 
while they regained their power over him. In vain his 
daughter tried to render his home agreeable. Having 
few ideas in common with him, she proposed cards 
evening after evening, notwithstanding her aversion to 
the game ; but this, and all her other efforts, were of 
no avail. He had become attached to society as unsuit- 
ed to the intelligence of his daughter, as it had been 
to the refinement of his wife. In an ill-assorted mar- 
riage, the virtue of one party may keep up an appear- 
ance of happiness, but inconveniences will, sooner or la- 
ter, result from a union defective in its very foundation. 



• 



166 MADAME ROLAND. 

In France, the wife's fortune and her personal effects 
are generally secured by the marriage-contract to her 
children, or restored to her relations, in case she dies 
childless. The relations of Mademoiselle Phlipon, be- 
ing honest, confiding people, neglected to demand an 
inventory at the time of her mother's decease ; and she 
felt a sense of impropriety in doing it herself. At last, 
his increasing profligacy made the step absolutely 
necessary. At the risk of incurring his displeasure, 
she took the requisite means, and was enabled to secure 
to herself five hundred livres (about one hundred dol- 
lars) a year ; this, with a few articles of furniture, was 
all that remained of the apparent opulence in which she 
had been educated. It was the more necessary to re- 
serve this pittance for herself, as her father's unkind- 
ness increased in proportion to his irregularity of life ; 
he was even unwilling to pay the postage of her letters. 

In the midst of these trials, literature was a never- 
failing resource and consolation. She saw scarcely any 
company except her aged relatives, and divided her 
time between her domestic duties and her books. She 
read the most celebrated of the French preachers, wrote 
criticisms on Bourdaloue, and herself composed a moral 
sermon, on the subject of brotherly love. She likewise 
wrote a dissertation on a subject proposed by the Acad- 
emy of Besancon, — How can the Education of Women 
be made to conduce to the Improvement of Men ? In this 
dissertation, she attempted to prove that a new order of 
things was necessary ; that it was useless to attempt the 
reformation of one sex by means of the other, until the 
condition of the whole species was ameliorated by good 
laws. 



MADAME ROLAND. 167 

She still continued her correspondence with Sophia 
Cannet, for whom she cherished unabated friendship. 
This young lady often mentioned in her letters a gentle- 
man, who visited her father ; she represented him as u- 
niversally esteemed for his good sense -and integrity, 
though he sometimes gave offence by severity bordering 
on sarcasm. Sophia had shown him the portrait of her 
friend Mary (or Molly) Jane Phlipon, and had talked 
much to him of her talents and her virtues. ' Shall I 
never have a letter to this charming friend ? ' he used to 
say : * I go every year to Paris — why do you not make 
me acquainted with her ? ' In December, 1775, he ob- 
tained the desired commission. The letter of introduc- 
tion was thus worded : * You will receive this from the 
hands of M. Roland de la Platiere, the philosopher I 
have mentioned to you. He is an enlighiened man, of 
spotless reputation, who can be reproached with nothing 
but his too great admiration for the ancients, at the ex- 
pense of the moderns, whom he undervalues ; and with 
being too fond of speaking of himself.' 

Roland was born of an opulent family, which had for 
several centuries been ennobled by offices, that they had 
not power to transmit to their heirs. This lasted as 
long as wealth enabled them to support all the outward 
signs of rank, such as arms, liveries, &c. But the for- 
tune was wasted by prodigality and bad management ; 
and Jean-Marie Roland de la Platiere found himself the 
youngest of five brothers, with nothing but his own en- 
ergies to rely upon. At the age of nineteen, he left the 
paternal roof, friendless and alone. Being averse to 
commerce, and unwilling to enter the church, he made 
preparations to go out to India ; this project was pre- 



168 . MADAME ROLAND. 

vented by an illness which would have made it death 
to venture on the sea. Having a relation who was an 
inspector of manufactures, he was induced to enter into 
that department of business, in which he soon distin- 
guished himself by his activity and skill. When he 
first became acquainted with Mademoiselle Phlipon, he 
was in the lucrative office of Inspector General of Man- 
ufactures at Amiens. He divided his time between 
travelling and study. Taking great interest in all sub- 
jects connected with political economy, he wrote several 
pamphlets on commerce, the mechanical arts, the man- 
agement of sheep, &c. ; in consequence of which he be- 
longed to several scientific societies. During his visits 
to Paris he had frequent opportunities of seeing Made- 
moiselle Phlipon, then in her twenty-second year, with 
a mind fully matured, and a person uninjured by time. 
His frank and instructive conversation pleased her ; 
and he was delighted with her, because she was a good 
listener ; a faculty by which she says she gained more 
friends, than by her facility in speaking. He had made 
a tour in Germany, of which he kept a journal ; and 
this, with other manuscripts, he confided to the care of 
Mademoiselle Phlipon, when he departed for Italy in 
the autumn of 1776. She says, ' These manuscripts 
made me better acquainted with him, during the eigh- 
teen months he passed in Italy, than frequent visits 
could have done. They consisted of travels, reflections, 
plans of literary works, and personal anecdotes ; a strong 
mind, strict principles, learning, and taste, were evident 
in every page. Before his departure for Italy, he intro- 
duced me to his best-beloved brother, a Benedictine 
monk, who sometimes came to see me, and communi- 



MADAME ROLAND. 169 

cated the notes his brother transmitted to him. These 
notes were afterward published in the form of letters on 
Italy, Switzerland, Sicily, and Malta. A friend, who 
had the care of printing them, injudiciously loaded them 
with Italian quotations. This work, abounding in mat- 
ter, wants only to be better digested, to hold the highest 
rank among books of the kind. On M. Roland's return, 
I found myself possessed of a friend. The gravity of 
his manners and his studious habits inspired the utmost 
confidence. It was several years after our acquaintance 
began, before he declared himself a lover. I did not 
hear it with indifference, because I esteemed him more 
than any man I had yet seen ; but I had remarked that 
neither he nor his family were indifferent to worldly 
considerations. I frankly told him that I felt honored 
by his addresses, and that I should be happy to make 
him a return for his affection ; but that my father was 
a ruined man, and his errors and debts might bring fur- 
ther disgrace upon those connected with him. I was 
too proud to enter a family that might feel degraded by 
my alliance, or to make the generosity of my husband 
a source of mortification to him. M. Roland persisted ; 
I was moved by his entreaties, and consented that he 
should make his proposals in form. As soon as he re- 
turned to Amiens, he wrote to my father, making known 
his wishes. My father thought the letter dry ; he did 
not like a son-in-law of such rigid principles. He an- 
swered the letter in rude, impertinent terms. I wrote 
to M. Roland, telling him the event had justified my 
fears respecting my parent, and that I begged him to 
abandon his design, because I did not wish to be the 
10* 



170 , MADAME ROLAND. 

occasion of his receiving further affronts. I informed 
my father of this proceeding, and told him that he could 
not he surprised at my wish to retire to a convent. 

In order to satisfy his creditors, I left him my share 
of the plate. I hired a little apartment in the convent 
of the Congregation, and there took up my abode, with 
a firm resolution to regulate my expenses according to 
my little income. Potatoes, rice, and beans, with a 
sprinkling of salt and a little butter, varied my food, and 
were cooked with small loss of time. I went out but 
twice a week ; once to visit my aged relations ; and 
once to my father's, to look over the linen, and take 
away what needed mending. It was winter, and I was 
lodged near the sky, under a roof of snow. I refused 
to mix habitually with the boarders ; devoting all my 
leisure time to my studies, I steeled my heart against 
adversity, and avenged myself on fate by deserving the 
happiness it did not bestow T . My kind Agatha passed 
an hour with me every evening. A few turns in the 
garden, when everybody was out of the way, constitu- 
ted my solitary walks. The resignation of a patient 
temper, the quiet of a good conscience, the elevation of 
spirit which sets misfortune at defiance, the laborious 
habits that make time pass so rapidly, the delicate taste 
of a sound mind finding pleasures in the consciousness 
of existence and of its own value, which the vulgar 
never know, — these were my riches. I was not always 
free from melancholy ; but even melancholy had its 
charms. Though I was not happy, I had within me all 
the means of being so ; and I had reason to be proud 
that I knew how to do without the external things I 
wanted. M. Roland, surprised and afflicted, continued 



MADAME ROLAND. 171 

to write to me with constant affection, but expressing* 
himself highly offended at my father's conduct. At the 
expiration of five or six months, he came to visit me, 
and felt the flame of love revive on seeing me at the 
grate, where I still retained some appearance of pros- 
perity. He again offered me his hand, and urged me 
to receive the nuptial benediction from his brother the 
prior. I entered into deep deliberation concerning what 
I ought to do. I could not help being sensible that a 
younger man would not have waited so long without 
endeavoring to make me change my resolution. I readi- 
ly confess that this consideration dispelled all illusion 
from my sentiments. On the other hand, I considered 
that his perseverance was the fruit of mature delibera- 
tion, and proved his sense of my merit. Since he had 
overcome his repugnance to the disagreeable circum- 
stances, that might attend the match, I was the more se- 
cure of his esteem, which I should not find it difficult to 
justify. Besides, if matrimony were a partnership, in 
which the woman generally undertakes to provide for 
the happiness of both parties, was it not better, to exert 
my faculties in that honorable condition, than in the 
forlorn and ascetic life I was leading in the convent ? ' 

They were married in the winter of 1779-80. She 
was twenty-five years of age, and he was nearly forty- 
seven. The following is M. Roland's portrait, by his 
wife. ' He was tall and negligent in his carriage, with 
that stiffness, which is often contracted by study. His 
manners were easy and simple, without possessing the 
fashionable graces ; he combined the politeness of a 
well-bred man with the gravity of a philosopher. Want 
of flesh, a complexion accidentally yellow, a forehead 



172 MADAME ROLAND. 

very high and thinly covered with hair, did not destroy 
the effect of a regular set of features, though it render- 
ed them rather respectable than engaging. His smile 
was very expressive ; and when he grew animated in 
conversation, or an agreeable idea crossed his mind, his 
whole face was lighted up. His conversation was full 
of interesting matter, because his head was full of ideas; 
but it occupied the mind more than it pleased the ear, 
because his language, though sometimes impressive, was 
always monotonous and harsh. In marrying him I be- 
came the wife of a truly worthy man, who continued to 
love me more the better he knew me. Although married 
at a mature age, I fulfilled my duties with an ardor that 
was rather the effect of enthusiasm than of calculation. 
By studying my partner's happiness I discovered that 
something was wanting to my own. I have never for 
a moment ceased to consider my husband the most esti- 
mable of human beings, as a man to whom I might be 
proud of belonging ; but I have often felt the disparity 
between us. He was more than twenty years older 
than myself ; and this, combined with the ascendency 
of an imperious temper, constituted too great superiority. 
If we lived in solitude, I sometimes had disagreeable 
hours to pass ; if we mixed with the world, I was be- 
loved by persons, some of whom appeared likely to take 
too strong hold of my affections. I immersed myself 
in study with my husband, to such a degree, that my 
health- suffered. Accustomed to have me share wkh 
him all his pursuits, he learned to think he oould not 
do without me at any time, or on any occasion. 

' We passed the first year of our marriage entirely at 
Paris, whither Roland had been sent for by the board 



MADAME ROLAND. 173 

of trade, who were desirous of making some new regu- 
lations concerning manufactures ; regulations which Ro- 
land's principles of liberty made him oppose with all 
his might. He was printing an account of some of the 
arts, which he had written for the academy, and taking 
a fair copy of his Italian notes. He made me his copy- 
ist and the corrector of the press. I executed the task 
with a degree of humility, at which I cannot help laugh- 
ing when I recollect it. It seems almost irreconcilable 
with a mind so active as mine ; but it flowed directly 
from my heart. I so sincerely respected my husband, 
that I easily believed him to know everything better 
than I could. At the same time he was so tenacious of 
his opinions, and I was so afraid of a cloud upon his 
brow, that it was long before I had confidence enough to 
contradict him. I was then attending a course of lec- 
tures on natural history and botany. These were the 
only recreations I enjoyed after the employments of sec- 
retary and housekeeper. We lived at ready-furnished 
lodgings during our stay in Paris ; and perceiving that 
all kinds of cooking did not agree with my husband's 
delicate constitution, I took care to prepare the food that 
best suited him. 

' We passed four years at Amiens, where I became a 
mother and a nurse, without ceasing to partake of my 
husband's labors. He had engaged to write a consider- 
able part of the new Encyclopedia ; we never stirred 
from the desk except to take a walk out of the gates of 
the town, for the purpose of studying botany. Frequent 
sickness alarmed me for Roland's life. My cares were 
not ineffectual, and they served to strengthen the tie that 



174 MADAME ROLAJiD. 

united us. He loved me for my boundless attention} 
and I was attached to him by the good I did him.' 

A letter from Madame Roland to one of her friends 
shows that she lost nothing of her republican zeal by 
associating with a husband, whose enthusiasm for lib- 
erty was quite equal to her own. 

1 Dear Friend,— I inclose a letter from M. Gosse, 
from which you will learn how the combined forces of 
France, Savoy and Berne behaved, when they took pos- 
session of Geneva. I was out of all patience in reading 
it. The very idea still makes the blood boil in my 
veins. It is clear, Geneva was no longer worthy of 
liberty— we see nothing like the energy it required to 
defend so dear a property, or die beneath its ruins. I 
have only the greater hatred for its oppressors, whose 
infectious neighborhood h£d corrupted the republic be- 
fore they came to put an end to its existence. Gosse 
tells me that the friend who was with him at Paris is of 
the aristocratic party. They hold no intercourse since 
the overthrow of liberty, lest their opposite tempers of 
mind should produce a disagreeable altercation. I would 
have laid a wager it would have taken place. His friend 
is that M. Coladon, whom I used to call Celadon, whose 
only merit is that of being a pretty fellow. His servile 
air and supple demeanor bespoke him a slave at first 
sight. I would not give a cripple, of the same cast as 
Gosse, for a hundred of him. Virtue and liberty have 
no longer an asylum, unless in the hearts of a small 
number of honest men. A fig for the rest— and for all 
the thrones in the world ! I would tell a king so to his 
face. From a woman, it would only be laughed at j 



' MADAME HO LAND w l^S 

but, by my soul, if I had been at Geneva* I would have 
died before they should have laughed at me.' 

In the early part of her union, M. Roland had requir- 
ed her to withdraw considerably from her intimate 
friends ; but time gave him confidence in her affections* 
and removed his fear of being rivalled. By his advice, 
she made a visit to her friend Sophia, early in the sum- 
mer of 1783. A letter from this place breathes a more 
feminine strain than the preceding. The acknowledge- 
ment, that society Was dangerous to her, because she 
met objects likely to engross her affections, contrasts 
oddly enough with the sincere attachment to M. Roland^ 
expressed in the following epistle* An American wife 
cannot understand such things. 

*SAtLLY, STEAK COBBIE. 

' I do not know the day of the month, All I can tell 
you is, that we are in the month of June 5 that yester* 
day was a holiday \ and that according to our reckon* 
ing here, it is three o'clock in the afternoon. On Sun* 
day I had a visit from my good man, who left me again 
yesterday evening,, I have nothing to send in return for 
your news. I do not trouble my head about politics J 
and I am no longer in the way of picking up any of a- 
nother kind. 1 can only entertain you with an account 
of the dogs that wake me, of the birds that console me 
for not being able to sleep again, of the cherry-trees that 
are opposite my windows, and of the heifers that graze 
before the door. I am under the roof of a friend, on 
whom I fixed my affections when in a convent at eleven 
years of age, with forty other girls, who thought of no- 
thing but romping to dispel the gloom of the cloister 



178 MADAME ROLAND'. 

In days of yore, I was devout like Madame Guyon | 
my companion was a little mystical also ; and our friend* 
ship was fed by the same sensibility that made us relig- 
ious to distraction. After her return to her own part of 
the country, she made me acquainted with M. Roland, 
by entrusting him with the delivery of her letters. Judge 
whether I ought not to love and cherish her for this ! 
This friend is lately married ; and I had some share in 
inducing her to do so. I am now visiting her in the 
country, which I have often represented to her as the 
abode best suited to a virtuous mind. I walk over her 
estate ; I count her poultry ; we gather fruit in the gar- 
den ;— and we are of opinion that all this is well worth 
the gravity with which fashionables sit round the card- 
table — the necessity of passing half the day in the im- 
portant business of dressing, — the prittle-prattle of fops, 
occ. &c. Notwithstanding all this, I feel a longing de- 
sire to return to Amiens, because only one half of me is 
here. My friend forgives me ; for her husband being 
absent, she is better able to judge of my privations. We 
find it very comfortable to condole with each other ; but 
we perfectly agree in the opinion, that to be at a distance 
from the dovecot, or to be there alone, is a very misera- 
ble thing. I am however to pass the whole week here. 
I do not know whether my health will be as much ben- 
efited as my good man hoped. I have laid aside all stu- 
dy for three days, without feeling any wonderful advan- 
tage. I was pretty well satisfied with the looks of our 
friend, when he was here ; but I dread his study as I 
dread fire. The week I have to pass here seems an 
eternity to me, on account of the mischief he may do 
himself while I am gone. Your description of your la- 



MADAME ROLAND. 177 

borious life answers very little purpose. I do not pity 
you at all. In my opinion, to be busy is to be half-way 
toward happiness.' 

Having become engaged in a playful warfare with the 
same friend concerning the equality of the sexes, she 
thus writes : * What is the deference paid by your sex 
to mine, but the indulgence shown by powerful magna- 
nimity to the weak whom it protects and honors ? When 
you assume the tone of masters, you make us recollect 
that we are able to resist you, and perhaps to do more, 
notwithstanding all your strength. Do you pay us hom- 
age ? It is Alexander treating his prisoners (who are not 
ignorant of their dependence) with the respect due to 
queens. In this single particular, civilization goes hand 
in hand with nature. The laws place us in a state of al- 
most constant subjection, while custom grants us all the 
honors of society. We are nothing in reality ; in ap- 
pearance we are everything. Do not then any longer 
imagine that I form a false estimate of what ioe have a 
right to require, or of what it becomes you to claim. I 
believe that I will not say more than any woman, but 
as much as any man, with regard to the superiority of 
your sex. In the first place, you have strength, with 
all the advantage that it confers ; courage, perseverance, 
extensive views, and great talents. It belongs to you 
to make political laws, as well as scientific discoveries ; 
to govern the world, change the surface of the globe, be 
magnanimous, terrible, skilful and learned. You are 
all this without our assistance ; and this no doubt 
makes you our masters. But without us, you would be 
neither virtuous, nor kind, nor amiable^ nor happy. 



178 MADAME ROLAND. 

Keep then to yourselves glory and authority of all 
kinds. We desire no empire but over manners — no 
throne but in your hearts. I am sorry to see women 
sometimes contend for privileges that become them so 
ill. There is not one of those privileges, even to the 
title of author, that does not seem to me ridiculous in 
female hands. To make one person happy, and to bind 
a number together by the charms of friendship, and by 
winning ways, is the most enviable destiny that can be 
conceived. Let us live in peace ; only recollect that to 
keep the high ground you stand upon in relation to 
woman-kind, be cautious of making them feel your su- 
periority. The war in which I have engaged you for 
amusement, and with all the freedom of an old friend, 
would be carried on in a more serious manner by an 
artful coquette ; nor would you leave the field without 
a wound. Protect always, that you may submit when 
you please ; that is the secret of your sex. But what a 
pretty simpleton I am to be telling you all this !' 

She thus describes her visit to the tomb of Rousseau : 
1 The valley in which Ermenonville is situated is the 
most miserable thing in the world. Black and muddy 
water ; no prospect ; not a single view of rich and cul- 
tivated fields ; low, marshy meadows, and woods in 
which you seem buried. The Isle of Poplars, in the 
midst of a noble piece of water, surrounded with trees, 
is the most agreeable and interesting spot in all Ermen- 
onville, independently of the object that has so much at- 
traction for thoughtful minds and feeling hearts. If 
Rousseau, however, had not given it celebrity, I doubt 
whether any one would have gone out of his way to vis- 
it it. We went into the master's room, which is no Ion- 



MADAME ROLAND. 179 

ger inhabited, and in which Rousseau must have been 
buried alive without air or prospect. He is now more 
handsomely accommodated than he ever was while liv- 
ing. 

' Our excursions have been delightful. But when I 
returned, poor Eudora did not remember her afflicted 
mother. I expected to be forgotten ; but nevertheless I 
wept like a child. Alas ! said I to myself, I fare no bet- 
ter than mothers who do not nurse their children though 
I deserve something better.* The little creature's affec- 
tion for me was interrupted by the suspension of the 
habit pf seeing me. When I think of it, my heart is 
ready to break. My child has resumed her customary 
caresses ; but I no longer dare to believe in the senti- 
ment, from which they derived their value. I wish she 
were still an infant, and still depended upon me for 
her nourishment.' 

In 1784, Madame Roland accompanied her husband 
in a journey to England. Of this excursion, she says, 
' Our journey gave us great satisfaction. I shall ever 
remember with pleasure a country of which Delolme 
taught me to love the constitution, and where I have 
witnessed the good effects produced by that constitu- 
tion. Fools may chatter, and slaves may sing ; but 
take my word for it, England contains men who have a 
right to laugh at us. 

I have to inform you for your satisfaction that Eudora 
knew us on our return, though we appeared to her as if 
in a dream. She kissed me with a kind of gravity 

* In France it is very unusual for mothers to nurse their own children, ex 
cept among the poorest classes — One very good reason why there is no such 
word as homo in the French language ! 



180 MADAME ROLAND. 

mixed with affection, and then uttered a faint cry of 
surprise and joy at the sight of her father. She had 
been in great health during our absence ; but next 
morning, while running about, she rolled down stairs 
in such a way that I thought her dead, and was. little 
better than dead myself.' 

After their return from England, Madame Roland 
went to Paris, to solicit letters patent of nobility for her 
husband, who could not spare time from his accumulat- 
ed literary labors to perform the journey himself. 

It has been already said that Roland belonged to a 
family, whose nobility disappeared with their opulence. 
Having obtained an easy fortune, he was desirous of be- 
ing reinstated in the rank of his ancestors. This appli- 
cation was afterward violently blamed and ridiculed by 
his Jacobin enemies. Madame Roland requested certi- 
ficates from the superintendents of trade in Paris ; but 
they, being jealous of Roland's long experience in a 
branch of administration which he understood much bet- 
ter than themselves, and differing from him in some of 
his opinions, — did not comply with her wishes in a 
manner entirely satisfactory. On this account the sub- 
ject was set aside for a time, and was not afterward 
renewed. Knowing her husband's wish to be near his 
family, she asked and obtained for him, during her stay 
in Paris, the office of Inspector General of Commerce 
and Manufactures at Lyons. This change of residence 
does not seem to have contributed to her happiness. 
They passed the winters at Lyons, and spent the sum- 
mers at Ville Franche, M. Roland's paternal abode. — 
His mother and elder brother resided on the same es- 
tate. Madame Roland says of the former, ' She is ren- 



MADAME ROLAND. 181 

dered respectable by her age, and terrible by her bad 
temper. My husband is passionately fond of indepen- 
dence, and his elder brother is accustomed and inclined 
to domineer ; he is more despotic, more fanatic, and 
more obstinate, than any priest you ever saw. The 
parish of Thezee, two leagues from Ville Francbe, in 
which is situated the Clos* de la Platiere, is a country 
of an arid soil, but rich in vineyards and woods. It is 
the last region in which the vine is cultivated, as you 
advance toward the lofty mountains of Beaujolois, We 
used frequently to go to this place in the autumn ; and 
after my mother-in-law's death, we spent there the great- 
er part of the year. Here my simple taste was exercis- 
ed in all the details of rural economy. I became the 
village doctor ; and was the more revered, because I be- 
stowed assistance instead of requiring a reward, and be- 
cause the pleasure of doing good gave grace to my at- 
tentions. * Honest countrywomen have come several 
leagues to beg me to save a life given over by the physi- 
cians. In 1789, my soothing cares saved my husband 
from a dreadful disease, when all the prescriptions of the 
doctors failed. I passed twelve days and nights with- 
out sleep, and six months in the uneasiness of preca- 
rious convalescence ; and yet I was not ill : so much 
does our strength and activity depend upon the heart.' 

The following letter from Ville Franche shows the 
nature of Madame Roland's occupations at this period 
of her life : 

' You ask me how I pass my time ? On rising, I busy 

myself with attending upon my child, and my husband. 

* A tract of vineyard inclosed. 
11 



182 M ADAME ROLAND. 

I get breakfast for both, hear the little one read, and then 
leave them together in the study, while I go and inquire 
into the household affairs from the cellar to the garret. 
The fruit, the wine, the linen, and other details, contrib- 
ute to my daily stock of cares. We are obliged to be 
in dress at noon, as there is a chance of company, which 
the old lady is very fond of inviting. If I have any 
time left, I pass it in the study with my husband, in the 
literary labors I have always been accustomed to share 
with him. After dinner, we stay a little while together, 
and I remain pretty constantly with my mother-in-law till 
company comes ; in such cases I am at liberty, and go 
to the study to write. In the evening, the newspaper, 
or something better, is read aloud. Gentlemen some- 
times join us in the study. If I am not the reader, I sit 
modestly at my needlework, taking care to keep the 
child quiet. She never leaves us, except when we have 
a formal repast for visiters. As I do not wish her to be 
troublesome, or to take up the attention of the company, 
on such occasions she remains in her own room, or 
takes a walk with her maid ; and does not make her ap- 
pearance till the dessert is finished. Sometimes, but 
not often, I take a walk with my good man and Eudora. 
Bating these trifling differences, every day sees me turn 
in the same circle. English, Italian, and music, in 
which I so much delight, are talents hidden under the 
ashes ; but I shall know where to find them, in order to 
instil them into my daughter's mind, as she grows older. 
The interest of my child, order in the things entrusted 
to my care, and peace among those with whom I am 
connected, constitute my business and my pleasure. — 
This kind of life would be very austere, were not my 



MADAME ROLAND. 183 

husband a man of great merit, whom I love with my 
whole heart ; but with this datum., it is most delightful. 
Tender friendship and unbounded confidence mark ev- 
ery moment of existence, and stamp a value upon all 
things, which nothing without them would have. It is 
the life most favorable to virtue and to happiness. I ap- 
preciate its worth, I congratulate myself on enjoying it, 
and I exert my best endeavors to make it last. 

' Eudora, our little delight, grows, and entertains us 
with her prattle. At this moment she is putting out her 
little mouth, and trying to kiss me, after having receiv- 
ed from papa a tap upon her fingers, which were over- 
turning everything on the table. Although brought up 
alone, she is a perfect romp. Her violent animal spirits 
will need a strong mind to govern them. She has all 
the intelligence that can be expected at her age, and can 
put up with anything, even dry bread, when doing pen- 
ance. She begins to read well, and to leave other play- 
things for her needle ; amuses herself with making geo- 
metrical figures ; is entirely unfettered by dress ; sets 
no value upon scraps of gauze and ends of riband ; thinks 
herself fine when she has a clean white frock, and is 
told she is good ; and looks upon a cake given with a 
kiss, as the greatest of all rewards. I was just now 
greatly scandalized by hearing her utter a big oath. 
She gives our servant Claude as authority. What ad- 
mirable aptitude ! She does not pass an hour in a fort- 
night with the servants ; and I never stir a step without 
her. She has a strong inclination to say and do the 
very contrary of what she is desired, because she thinks 
it agreeable to act for herself ; but as she is sure to be 
repaid with interest, she begins to suspect that she might 



184 MADAME ROLAND. 

do better ; she gives herself as much credit for an act 
of obedience, as we should do for a sublime effort of the 
mind. I am her confidant upon all occasions ; and she 
is very much at loss what to do when we quarrel.' 

Madame Koland's letters do not always breathe the 
same spirit of contentment. In a letter from Clos de 
la Platiere, she says, ' I detest this place. We have 
killed a viper near the house, and Eudora may meet 
with that terrible reptile in some unfrequented walk. 
My heart fails me at the thought. More things than 
one put us out of humor with this country-house. We 
have laid aside the idea of rebuilding it. If you hear 
of a snug box to be sold on the road to Lyons, pray 
let us know.' 

A few months after, she again writes, from the same 
place : ' I am still here, and shall probably remain some 
time. Economy guided us in our first resolution to 
live at Ville Franche ; but regard for our moral and 
physical welfare made us change our minds. True my 
mother-in-law lives at as great an expense during our 
absence ; and strangers occupy our places at her table. 
What then ? Here we have liberty and peace. We no 
longer hear a scolding tongue from morning till night, 
or behold a forbidding countenance, in which jealousy 
and anger are manifest through the disguise of irony, 
whenever we meet with any success, or receive any at- 
tention. With all my regard for you, 1 should not 
speak thus of my husband's mother, if he had not done 
so already. To confess the truth, these trials are more 
supportable than they were during the first two or three 
months. As long as I had hopes of finding a heart 



MADAME &0LAN1), 185 

among the whimsicalities of the most extraordinary dis- 
position, I tormented myself in endeavoring to gain it, 
and was distressed because I could not. Now I see in a 
proper point of view a selfish, fantastical being, govern* 
ed entirely by a spirit of contradiction, who never en* 
joyed anything but the power of tormenting by her ca* 
prices, who triumphs in the death of two children, after 
she had steeped their souls in bitterness, who would 
smile at the death of all of us, and who scarcely takes 
any pains to conceal her sentiments, I feel my distress 
converted into indifference, almost into pity ; and my 
fits of indignation and hatred become brief and unfre- 
quent. Here we can breathe a pure air, and indulge in 
confidence and tenderness, without any fear that the 
manifestation of such sentiments will irritate a hard 
heart utterly a stranger to them. We cannot possess 
great blessings, without purchasing them at the expense 
of a few'troublest With such a husband as mine, and 
one so dear to me, this world Would be a perfect para- 
dise, if I had nothing else but sources of satisfaction." 

At another time, she says, ' I verily believe I am im- 
bibing some of the inclinations of the beast whose milk 
is restoring me to health. I am growing asinine, by 
dint of attending to the little cares of a piggish country 
life. I am preserving pears, which will be delicious ; 
we are drying raisins and prunes ; are in the midst of 
a great wash, and getting up the linen ; make our 
breakfast upon wine ; overlook the people busied in the 
vintage ; * rest ourselves in the woods and meadows ; 
knock down walnuts ; and, after gathering our stock of 
fruit for the winter, spread it in the garret ; after break- 
11* 



186 Madame roland. 

fast, we are all going in a body to gather almonds, 
Throw off your fetters for a little while, and join us in 
our retreat ; you will find there true friendship, and real 
simplicity of heart.' 

Some time after, she says, ' As long as I remained 
nailed to my desk in the study, you heard from me of- 
ten, and could judge of my way of life, perhaps of my 
heart, by my correspondence ; but the people of our 
town looked upon me as a hermit, who could only con- 
verse with the dead, and who disdained all commerce 
with her fellow-creatures. I laid down my pen ; sus- 
pended my literary labors ; walked forth from my mu- 
seum ; talked, ate, danced and laughed with all that 
came in my way ; and then my neighbors perceived I 
was not an owl — nor a constellation — nor a female 
pedant — but a being both tolerable and tolerant ; while 
you, on the other hand, thought me dead. I am now 
about to resume solitude and study, and expect to hear 
you alter your note once more.' 

Having made a sceptical remark in one of her letters, 
she returns to the subject in her next, and says, ' I must 
confess to you that when I am walking in peaceful med- 
itation, in the midst of some rural scene, of which I 
relish the beauties, it seems delightful to me to owe the 
blessings I enjoy to a Supreme Intelligence : at such 
times I believe and adore. It is only in the dust of the 
closet, while poring over books, or in the bustle of the 
world, while breathing the corruption of mankind, that 
these sentiments die away, and a gloomy sort-of reason 
rises enveloped with the clouds of doubt, and the de- 
structive vapors of incredulity.' 

The following letter is merely quoted as a sample of 



MADAME ROLAND. 187 

the sprightliness of her style ; I know not to whom it 
is addressed, nor to what it is a reply » 

' Oh ! a great deal worse than giddy — why, you are 
inconsiderate, impertinent — I know not what. How 
can you expect me ever to pardon you for having, made 
me lose my time in copying the most tiresome things in 
the world ? Copy ! I copy ! It is a degradation — a pro- 
fanation — a sin against all the laws of taste. After 
this, it becomes you well to go snuffing the wind, and 
strutting along — You, an interloper in the capital, 
whence I carried a great part of what was good for any- 
thing ! Do you not know that I have both pens and jour- 
nals upon my toilet, — moreover verses to Iris, — that I 
can talk of my country-house, of my domestics, and of 
the stupidity of the town at this season of the year ? 
That I can pronounce sentence upon new books, fall in 
love with a work upon the report of the editor of the 
Parisian Journal, pay visits, talk nonsense, listen to the 
same, — and so on ? Is not that the utmost effort of the 
wit and art of the elegant woman in the great world ? 
Go your ways, young gentleman ! As yet, you are not 
clever enough for a persiflage, nor impudent enough for 
fashionable airs and graces. You have not even levity 
enough to encourage an experienced woman to under- 
take your education, without a risk of exposing herself. 
Go your ways, young man — pickup insects, dispute 
with the learned about snails' horns, or the color of a 
beetle's wings ; but as for the ladies, you are good for 
nothing but to give them the vapors. Do you know 
that Massachusetts is a very barbarous name? And 
that a man of fashion was never known to utter such a 



188 MADAME ROLAND. 

word when saying soft things to the fair sex ? 1 heard 
of a lady who was so shocked at the sound of Transyl* 
vania, which was quite new to her, that she desired the 
impertinent speaker to leave the room.' 

From Lyons she writes, ' My good man pronounced 
a discourse before the Academy, that was much applaud- 
ed. The subject was The Influence of the Cultivation 
of Letters in the Provinces, compared with their Influ- 
ence in the Capital. There was a good deal in it con- 
cerning women, which several present had reason to ap- 
ply to themselves ; they would tear my eyes out, per- 
haps, if they suspected I had any share in the composi- 
tion. The secretary of the academy recited a poetic 
epistle, in which he congratulated our friend upon his 
return to his country, accompanied by a help-mate, of 
whom he spoke as — poets are apt to do. It is pretty 
certain that this did not tend to recommend me to the 
favor of the women. They would fain have it in their 
power to criticise the discourse of an academician, whose 
wife was the subjest of a public panegyric. When you 
know me to be in the country, you may show yourself 
as you are ; an original, or a censor ; if needs must be, 
you may be morose. In the country, my stock of in- 
dulgence is inexhaustible ; my friendship forgives ev- 
erything. But the company I see at Lyons puts me- in 
good humor ; my imagination grows more lively ; and 
if you rouse it, you must take the consequences. I 
let no joke escape without sending it back with a shar- 
pened point.' 

Of her father, she thus speaks : ' He neither married, 
nor made any very ruinous engagements. We paid a 
few debts he had contracted, and by granting him an 



MADAME ROLAND. 189 

annuity prevailed on him to leave business, in which it 
had become impossible for him to succeed. Though 
suffering so much from his errors, and though he had 
reason to be highly satisfied with our behavior, his spirit 
was too proud not to be hurt at the obligations he owed 
us. A state of irritated self-love often prevented him 
from doing justice, even to those who were most desi- 
rous of pleasing him. He died, aged upwards of sixty, 
in the hard winter of 1787.' 

In the course of the same year, Madame Roland ac- 
companied her husband in a tour through Switzerland, 
where she became acquainted with several interesting 
persons ; among them was the famous Lavater, with 
whom she afterward corresponded. In passing through 
Geneva, she was filled with indignation at not finding 
a statue erected to the memory of Rousseau. After 
their return from Switzerland, they resided alternately 
at Lyons and at Clos de la Platiere. TJiey were enjoy- 
ing their accustomed mode of life in these places, when 
the flame of the Revolution first broke out. Roland and 
his wife at once kindled with popular enthusiasm. 
Their imaginations had long been enamored of the an- 
cient republics ; and they now fancied the time had ar- 
rived for the political regeneration of mankind. 

Extracts from her letters will best show her state of 
feeling at this time : 

' Clos de la Platiere, 1790. 

' In this place, I could easily forget public affairs ; 
contented with feeding my rabbits, and seeing my hens 
hatch their young, I no longer think of revolutions. 
But as soon as I am in town, the insolence of the rich 



190 MADAME ROLAND. 

and the misery of the people, excite my hatred against 
injustice and oppression ; and I no longer ask for any- 
thing but the triumph of truth and the success of the 
Revolution. Our peasantry are very much discontent- 
ed with the decree concerning feudal rights. We must 
have a reform, or we shall have more chateaux burnt. 
Preparations are making at Lyons for a camp. Send us 
brave fellows to make aristocracy tremble in its den.' 

-It. .Ai. -V- -M. -Xi. .it. .5/- JSfc 

■7? "7? TT Vt i; 7 l f--7S-'?v-*7S- 

1 Lyons is subjugated. The Germans and Swiss dom- 
ineer by means of their bayonets, employed in the ser- 
vice of a treacherous municipality in league with bad 
ministers and bad citizens. If we do not die for liberty, 
we shall soon have nothing left to do but weep for her. 
Do you say, we dare no longer speak ? Be it so. We 
must thunder then. Join yourself to such honest peo- 
ple as you can find,: and wake the people from their le- 
thargy ! ' u^ * ^ ^ 

' Death and destruction ! What signifies your being 
Parisians ? You cannot see to the end of your own 
noses — or else you want vigor to make your assembly 
get on. It was not our representatives who brought a- 
bout the revolution ; with the exception of a dozen or 
so, they are altogether beneath such a work. It was 
the people, who are always in the right, when public 
opinion is properly directed. Paris is the seat of that 
opinion. Finish your work then, or expect to see it wa- 
tered with your blood. You are nothing but children. 
Your enthusiasm is a momentary blaze. If the national 
assembly do not bring two illustrious heads to a formal 
trial, or if some generous Decius do not strike them 
off, we shall all go to the together. The French 



MADAME ROLAND. 191 

are so easily seduced by fair appearances on the part of 
their masters ! No doubt one half of the assembly was 
moved at the sight of Antoinette recommending her 
son, A child is of great consequence, to be sure ! The 
salvation of twenty millions of men is at stake. If this 
letter do not reach you, let the base wretches, who open 
it, blush when they learn that it is from a woman ; and 
let them tremble to reflect, that she is able to make a 
hundred enthusiasts, who will make a million more.' 

-■V- •& -i£* <£* ■££■ ^vEr -V- •££? 

•7J* w *Jv" "76* "3v* "Tv W *7v" 

1791. 

* I weep for the blood that has been spilt ; it is im- 
possible to be too sparing of the lives of our fellow- 
creatures. Nevertheless, I am glad there is danger. 
I see nothing else capable of goading you on. It is im- 
possible to rise to freedom, from the midst of corruption, 
without strong convulsions. They are the salutary cri- 
sis of a serious disease. We are in want of a terrible 
political fever, to carry off our foul humors.' 

These, and other letters equally energetic, were rap- 
idly circulated by her husband's political friends ; and 
many of them found their way into the public journals, 
particularly the Patriote Francois. Roland and his 
wife likewise wrote many articles, in favor of a new or- 
der of things, in the Courrier de Lyon. Madame Ro- 
land gave a description of the confederation at Lyons, 
May 30, 1790, in language so powerful and impressive, 
that more than sixty thousand copies of it were sold. 

In 1791, Roland was chosen, by the city of # Lyons, 
deputy extraordinary to the Constituent Assembly ; the 
manufacturers of that place were then in a wretched 



192 jttADAME ROLAND. 

state, and twenty thousand workmen were starving. — 
Madame Roland accompanied her husband to Paris, 
where they arrived on the 20th of February ; they re- 
mained there seven months, in habits of close compan- 
ionship with Brissot, Buzot, Robespierre, &c. Madame 
Roland says, ' I had been five years absent from the 
place of my nativity. I had watched the progress of 
the revolution, and the labors of the assembly ; I had 
studied the characters and talents of its leading mem- 
bers, with an interest not to be easily conceived by those 
who are unacquainted with my ardent and active turn 
of mind. I hastened to attend their sittings. I was 
vexed to see that dignified habits, purity of language, 
and polished manners, gave the court-party a kind of su- 
periority in large assemblies; but the strength of reason, 
the courage of integrity, the fruits of study, and the flu- 
ency of the bar, could not fail to secure the triumph of 
tha patriots, if they were all honest, and could but re- 
main united.' 

At this period Madame Roland thought Robespierre 
an honest man, and a true friend of liberty ; though she 
says the kind of reserve, for which he was remarkable, 
even then gave her pain, — because it seemed like a fear 
of being seen through, or a distrust of the virtue of oth- 
ers. Of Danton she says, ' No man could make a great- 
er show of zeal in the cause of liberty ; but I contem- 
plated his forbidding and atrocious features, and though 
I tried to overcome my prejudice, I could never associate 
anything good with such a countenance. Never did a 
face so # strongly express brutal passions, and the most 
astonishing audacity, half distinguished by a jovial air, 
and an affectation of simplicity.' 



MADAME ROLAND. 193 

As M. Roland's residence in Paris was a convenient 
place of rendezvous, different members of the assembly 
often met there. She says, ' This arrangement suited 
me perfectly. It made me acquainted with the progress 
of public affairs, in which I was deeply interested, and 
favored my taste for political speculation, and the study 
of mankind. However, T knew very well what part be- 
came a woman, and never stepped out of my proper 
sphere. I employed myself in working, or writing let- 
ters, without sharing in the debate. Yet if I despatched 
ten espistles in an evening, I did not lose a syllable of 
what they were saying ; and more than once I bit my 
lips, to restrain my impatience to speak. It distressed 
me that men of sense should pass three or four hours 
in light and frivolous chit-chat, without coming to any 
conclusion. Good ideas were started, and excellent 
principles maintained ; but on the whole, there was no 
path marked out, no fixed result, no determinate point, 
toward which each person should direct his views. — 
Sometimes, for very vexation, I could have boxed the 
ears of these philosophers, whose honesty I daily learnt 
to esteem more and more. Excellent reasoners, learned 
theorists, were they all; but being totally ignorant of the 
art of managing mankind, their wit and learning were 
generally lavished to no end.' 

In September, 1791, Roland returned to Lyons, after 
having obtained all for that city that could be desired. 
The autumn was employed in the vintage ; and as one 
of the last acts of the Constituent Assembly had been 
the suppression of the office of Inspectors, it was deter- 
mined that they should spend the winter in Paris ; where 
Roland intended to claim a pension for forty years' ser- 



194 MADAME EOLAN.D- 

vice, and where he could have greater facilities for con- 
tinuing his labors in the Encyclopedia. Before he left 
Lyons he established there a club similar to the Jacobin 
club at Paris. 

After the dissolution of the Constituent Assembly, a 
new body was immediately organized, called the Legis- 
lative Assembly. ' The party which obtained the as- 
cendency in this Assembly was called the Gironde par- 
ty, because some of its principal leaders came from the 
neighborhood of Bordeaux, which is watered by a river 
of that name.' Among the leaders were Roland and 
his wife, Condorcet, Brissot, &c. The Court, alarmed 
at the increasing strength of the popular factions, thought 
to pacify the people by appointing Jacobin ministers. 
The aristocratic party would not have been sorry to have 
seen the dignity conferred upon men who were base e- 
nough to become their tools, or weak enough to be ob- 
jects of derision. The patriots, anxious to avoid tbis 
snare, were very solicitous to choose persons of strong 
abilities and undoubted integrity. Under such circum- 
stances their attention was fixed upon M. Roland. His 
own courage did not shrink from the arduous task, and 
his wife's ambition was gratified by a proposal that con- 
ferred so much distinction. In Marth, 1792, he became 
Minister of tbe Interior. The Hotel, formerly occupied 
by the Comptroller General of Finance, was appropria- 
ted to his use ; and Madame Roland presided over the 
establishment, that had been so splendidly fitted up for 
Madame Necker, in the days of her glory. v 

When Roland first presented himself at Court, he dis- 
pensed with the usual costume, and appeared in the 
dress of the Jacobin club — a plain suit of clothes, round 



MADAME ROLAND. 195 

hat, and shoes fastened with ribbon instead of buckles. 
The king, and those courtiers who thought the salvation 
of the country depended upon etiquette, were greatly- 
scandalized at this austere republicanism. The master 
of the ceremonies, stepping up to Dumouriez, and cast- 
ing a look of alarm upon the new minister, exclaimed, 
* 0, dear sir ! he has no buckles in his shoes ! ' Du- 
mouriez, who enjoyed a joke, replied, with laughable 
gravity, ' Mercy upon us ! we shall all go to ruin ! ' 

Louis XVI. was however very affable and concilia- 
ting in his manner toward the new members of the 
council. At first, Roland was enchanted with his excel- 
lent disposition, and thought the monarch would grant 
everything that could be required for the good of the. 
people. ' On my faith,' said he, ' if he be not an honest 
man, he is the greatest knave in the kingdom. It is 
impossible to be so hypocritical.' To these expressions 
of confidence, Madame Roland replied, ' I cannot bring 
myself to believe in the constitutional vocation of a king, 
born and educated in despotism, and accustomed to ar- 
bitrary sway. If Louis is sincerely the friend of a con- 
stitution, which restrains his power, he must be virtuous 
beyond the common race of mortals ; and if he were 
such a man, the events that have led to the revolution 
could never have occurred.' The troubles on the score 
of religion increased daily ; and the preparations of the 
enemy called for decisive measures. Roland urged 
upon the king the necessity of a decree against the 
priesthood, and the establishment of a camp in the sub- 
urbs of Paris. Louis did not positively refuse, but, 
upon the plea of further consideration, he deferred them 
from day to day, until his sincerity was greatly suspec- 



196 MADAMEROLAND. 

ted. Roland remonstrated in the strongest and most 
spirited manner. Thinking the public welfare in dan- 
ger, and that patriot ministers were bound to provide 
means for its salvation, he at last proposed to his col- 
leagues that a letter should be written to the king, full of 
republican truths, expressed warmly and without dis- 
guise. The members of the council were afraid to haz- 
ard so bold a measure ; and Roland thought it incum- 
bent upon his integrity and courage to step forward 
alone. This famous letter to Louis XVI. was written 
by Madame Roland. It was placed in the king's hands 
on the 11th of June ; and the next day, the Minister of 
the Interior and his colleagues were dismissed from of- 
fice. Madame Roland, with her usual daring, advised 
that a copy of the offensive letter should be immediately 
sent to the National Assembly, that the cause of Ro- 
land's dismission might be known. This letter obtain- 
ed prodigious popularity. The Assembly ordered it to 
be printed and sent to all the departments, accompanied 
with expressions of national regret at the discharge of 
the ministry. Roland became the idol of the patriotic 
party. After the dreadful catastrophe of the 10th of 
August, 1792, he was again called to the ministry by 
the triumphant faction. 

Of her way of life at this period, Madame Roland 
thus speaks : ' As soon as my husband was in the min- 
istry, I came to a fixed determination neither to pay nor 
receive visits, nor invite any female to my table. I had 
no great sacrifice to make ; for, not residing at Paris, 
my acquaintance was not extensive. Besides, I had 
never kept a great deal of company ; my love of study 
is as great as my detestation of cards, and the society of 



MADAME ROLAND. 197 

silly people affords me no amusement. Accustomed to 
domestic retirement, I shared the labors of Roland, and 
pursued the studies most suited to my own particular 
taste. 

' The establishment of so severe a rule served to keep 
up my accustomed style of life, and to prevent the in- 
conveniences, which an interested crowd is sure to throw 
in the way of people occupying important posts. Twice 
a week I gave a dinner to some of the ministers, a few 
members of the Assembly, and other persons with whom 
my husband wished to converse. Business was talked 
of in my presence, because I had not the rage of inter- 
fering, and was never surrounded by new acquaintan- 
ces, whose presence might excite distrust. From all 
the spacious apartments, I chose the smallest parlor for 
myself, and converted it into a study, by moving into it 
my library and desk. It frequently happened that 
Roland's friends, when they wanted to talk confiden- 
tially, instead of going to his apartment, where he was 
usually surrounded, would come to my room and ask 
me to send for him. By these means, I found myself 
drawn into the vortex of public affairs, without intrigue, 
or idle curiosity ; and as we had ever a perfect inter- 
community of knowledge and opinions, Roland talked 
to me in private of political measures with entire confi- 
dence. During twelve years, I shared in my husband's 
intellectual labors as I did in his repasts ; because one 
was as natural to me as the other. If any of his works 
met with a flattering reception, on account of any partic- 
ular gracefulness of style, I shared his satisfaction with- 
out remarking that it was my own composition. Not 
12 



198 MADAME ROLAND. 

unfrequently he brought himself to believe that he had 
been in a happier mood than usual when he had writ- 
ten a passage, which in reality proceeded from my pen. 
If an occasion occurred for the expression of great and 
striking truths, I poured my whole soul upon the pa- 
per. I loved my country. — I knew no interest, no 
passion, that came in competition with my enthusiasm 
for liberty. The language that comes directly from the 
heart is necessarily pure and pathetic ; and it was very 
natural that such effusions should be preferable to the 
laborious teeming of a secretary's brain. Why should 
not a woman act as secretary to her husband, without 
depriving him of his merit ? It is well known that min- 
isters cannot do everything themselves ; and surely it 
is better for the wives of statesmen to make draughts of 
letters, of official despatches, and of proclamations, than 
employ their time in soliciting and intriguing first for 
one friend and then for another ; in the very nature of 
things one of these employments excludes the other. I 
make these remarks, because a great many people are 
willing to allow me a little merit, on purpose that they 
may deny it to my husband ; while many others sup- 
pose me to have had a kind of influence in public affairs 
entirely discordant with my turn of mind. Studious 
habits and a taste for literature led me to participate in 
Roland's labors while he remained a private individual ; 
my existence being devoted to his happiness, I applied 
myself to such things as best pleased him. If he wrote 
treatises on the arts, I did the same, though the subject 
was tedious to me. If he wished to write an essay for 
some academy, we sat down to write in concert, that we 
might afterward compare our productions, choose the 



MADAME ROLAND* 199 

best, or compress them into one. If he had written 
homilies, I should have written homilies also. I never 
interfered with his administration ; but if a circular 
letter, or an important state-paper, were wanted, we 
talked over the matter with our usual freedom ; and, 
impressed with his ideas, and teeming with my own, I 
sometimes took up the pen, which I had more leisure to 
conduct than he had. Our principles and turn of mind 
being the same, my husband ran no risk in passing 
through my hands. Without me, Roland would have 
been quite as good a minister ; for his knowledge, his 
activity, an.d his integrity were all his own : but with 
me he attracted more attention ; because I infused into 
his writings that mixture of spirit and gentleness, of 
authoritative reason and seducing sentiment, which is 
perhaps only to be found in the language of a woman, 
who has a clear head and a feeling heart. If my com- 
positions could be of use, it afforded me greater pleasure 
than it would have done to have been known as their 
author. I am avaricious of happiness, but I do not 
stand in need of glory ; nor can I find any part to per- 
form in this world that suits me, but that of providence* 
I allow the malicious to look upon this remark as a 
piece of impertinence, which it must somewhat resem- 
ble ; those who know me will see nothing in it but 
what is sincere, like myself. 

' I was generally so much occupied with the impor- 
tance of the subject in which we were engaged, that my 
thoughts did not even revert to myself. Once, however, 
I recollect being diverted by a curious coincidence of 
circumstances. I was writing to the Pope, to claim the 
French artists imprisoned at Rome* — A letter to the 



200 MADAME ROLAND. 

sovereign Pontiff in the name of the Executive Council 
of France, sketched secretly by a woman, in her hum- 
ble closet, appeared to me so strange a thing, that I 
laughed heartily when I had finished it. The pleasure 
of such contrasts consisted in their secrecy ; and that 
was necessarily less attainable when the eye of a clerk 
surveyed the hand-writing he copied. If those who 
found me out, had formed a right judgment of things, 
they would have saved me from a sort of celebrity to 
which I never aspired ; and instead of spending my 
time to refute their falsehoods, I might now be reading 
Montaigne, painting a flower, or playing an ariette. 
Household cares I never neglected ; but I cannot com- 
prehend how a woman of method and activity can have 
her attention engrossed by them. If the family be large, 
there are the greater number of persons to divide the 
cares ; nothing is wanted but a moderate share of vigi- 
lance, and a proper distribution of employments. In the 
different situations in which I have been placed, nothing 
has been done without my orders ; yet when I have 
had the most to superintend, I have never consumed 
more than two hours of the day. People who know 
how to employ themselves, always find leisure moments, 
while those who do nothing are forever in a hurry. I 
have seen notable women, who were insupportable to 
the world and to their husbands, by a fatiguing preoccu- 
pation about their trifling concerns. I think a wife 
should superintend everything herself, without saying a 
word about it ; and with such command of temper, and 
management of time, as will leave her the means of 
pleasing by her good-humor, intelligence, and the grace 
natural to her sex. It is much the same in governments 



MADAME ROLAND. 201 

as in families ; those statesmen, as well as housewives, 
who make a great bustle about the difficulties they are 
in, are the very ones, who are too indolent, too awkward, 
or too ignorant to remove them.' 

A life so full of changes as that of Madame Roland, 
of course afforded striking contrasts. She tells us that 
one day as she was stepping out of the spacious dining 
room, which the elegant Calonne had fitted up, she met 
a grey-headed gentleman, who bowed very low, and beg- 
ged her to obtain for him an interview with the Minis- 
ter of the Interior. She afterward found that this gen- 
tleman was M. Haudry, whose relations had invited her 
to dine with their servants ; he had squandered his for- 
tune in dissipation, and came to ask M. Roland to pro- 
cure him a place in a manufactory. 

But situations the most elevated are often far from be- 
ing the most enviable. Base and selfish men joined the 
popular party, ready to serve it for money, or to betray 
it the moment it became weak. Such men could not 
but clash with Roland, who was conscientious in his 
motives, and unyielding in his opinions. To this was 
added the immense accumulation of labor devolving up- 
on a public officer, in those distracted times, and the dif- 
ficulty of finding men of probity and skill to assist him. 

Madame Roland says, ' It seems as if France were 
destitute of men ; their scarcity has been truly surpris- 
ing in this revolution, in which scarcely anything but 
pigmies have appeared. I do not mean, however, that 
there was any want of wit, of learning, of accomplish- 
ments, or of philosophy. These ingredients were never 
so common — it is the bright blaze of an expiring taper. 
But as to that firmness of mind, which Rousseau calls 



202 MADAME ROLAND. 

the first attribute of a hero, supported by that soundness 
of judgment, which knows how to set a true value upon 
things, and by those extensive views, which penetrate 
into futurity, altogether constituting the character of a 
great man, they were sought for everywhere, and were 
scarcely to be found. Before I became acquainted with 
public affairs I was as distrustful of myself as a novice 
in her cloister. I thought that men, who spoke with 
more decision than myself, were more able. It required 
the bustle of a revolution, and an opportunity to make 
comparisons among a crowd of distinguished men, to 
enable me to perceive that the bench on which I was 
standing was not likely to break down with the throng. 
The conviction tended rather to lower my estimate of 
the species, than to elevate the opinion of myself.' 

The admission of Danton into the councils of govern- 
ment was, as Madame Roland had foreseen, a source of 
perpetual vexation and distress to the true patriots. He 
had been admitted from the bad political maxim, that an 
unprincipled man may be used as a tool, to bring about 
good purposes from wrong motives. Those who dislik- 
ed his proceedings, deemed it expedient to tolerate him, 
because he might prove a dangerous enemy. Selfish 
and insidious, he availed himself of his position,, and 
placed his vile creatures in almost every department. 
As his power increased, he showed more openly his 
dislike of Roland, who was too honest to be tampered 
with, and too fearless to be intimidated. They found 
Madame Roland had no weak side, through which her 
husband could be assailed, and they alike dreaded her 
frankness, her penetration, and her talents. It is hard- 
ly possible to suppose a situation more painful than that 



MADAME ROLAND* 203 

of an upright man in power compelled to witness abu- 
ses he cannot prevent, and to have the appearance of 
sanctioning the crimes his soul abhors. Koland's health 
was impaired by it. He was unable to eat or sleep. 
Yet he deemed it his duty not to desert his post so long 
as there was a chance of checking the tide of anarchy. 

The massacres of the 2d of September filled him with 
horror. He wrote a letter to the Assembly, as famous 
as his address to the king; it proved that he alike de- 
tested the tyranny of a monarch and the tyranny of a 
mob. 

The department of the Somme, in which Roland had 
long resided, elected him a member of the Convention ; 
in consequence of which, he thought proper to offer to 
the Assembly a resignation of his office in the ministry. 
This proposal produced a good deal of agitation. Many 
of the members were alarmed at the idea of taking from 
the helm a man of understanding and tried integrity. 
A motion was made, that he should be urged to remain 
in office ; upon which Danton observed, ' If we invite 
him, we must extend the invitation to Madame. I am 
well aware of the virtues of the minister ; but we have 
need of men, who can see without the help of their 
wives.' 

The resignation was not accepted ; and a crowd of 
members repaired to his house, beseeching him not to 
quit the ministry, — urging it upon him as a sacrifice he 
owed to his country. News was brought that his elec- 
tion as member of the Convention was void, because it 
had been made in lieu of another, erroneously supposed 
to be null ; this circumstance was known to Danton's 
party, but they endeavored to keep it concealed, until 



204 MADAME ROLAND. 

they could get Roland out of the ministry. Under these 
circumstances, the Minister of the Interior resolved to 
remain at his dangerous post. The difficulties and per- 
ils of his situation increased daily. The Mountain Par- 
ty, headed hy Robespierre, Danton, and Marat, gained 
its awful ascendency. The influence of moderate and 
enlightened patriots was an insufficient barrier against 
the ferocity of a lawless banditti. Roland and his par- 
ty tried to stop the frightful increase of crime, and con- 
sequently were immediately branded by the fierce Moun- 
taineers, as conspirators against the liberties of France. 
They ridiculed the chimera of a Universal Common- 
wealth, and a Convention composed of deputies from all 
parts of the world, and therefore they were denounced as 
vile corrupters of public opinion. They dared to say that 
Greece was composed of small confederate republics, 
and that the United States exhibited the best model of 
a good social organization — and they were immediately 
represented as federalists, men ambitious of supreme 
power, the secret friends of England, &c. &c. 

The social dinners, which Madame Roland could not 
• well avoid giving to public men, were represented as 
sumptuous feasts, where she, like a new Circe, corrup- 
ted all who were unfortunate enough to partake of her 
banquet. On the 7th of December, she was called be- 
fore the Convention to answer to certain accusations ; 
and the sincerity and eloquence of her replies compelled 
her worst enemies to listen and admire. But in such 
times, innocence and talent could not produce any abid- 
ing effect. When artful politicians courted the scum of 
the populace, by cutting throats, drinking, swearing, and 
dressing- like sailors, it was deemed sufficient villanv to 



MADAME ROLAND. 205 

profess morality, and retain politeness. The friends of 
Roland, having ascertained that desperate men were 
constantly lurking about his house, urged him to remove 
his family. At one time, Madame .Roland was convin- 
ced that it would be better for her to retire to Ville 
Franche, and leave her husband to effect his escape, 
(should such a step become necessary,) unencumbered 
by his wife and child ; but her prevailing feeling was 
to remain with him, and share the worst fate that might 
befal him. Her friends told her she must leave Paris 
in disguise ; and the dress of a peasant girl was brought 
for that purpose. The sight of it aroused all her forti- 
tude — she indignantly threw it aside, exclaiming, ' I 
am ashamed of the part you would persuade me to act. 
I will neither disguise myself, nor go out of the way. 
If I am to be murdered, it shall be in my own mansion. 
I owe my -country an example of firmness, and I will 
give it. I cannot suppose there are wretches, who could 
be easily induced to violate the asylum of a man in 
public office ; and if there be men so depraved, the per- 
petration of such an act would be productive of benefi- 
cial consequences.' 

Madame Roland was, however, so well aware of her 
danger, that she never slept without a pistol under her 
pillow ; not to kill those who might come to assassinate 
them, but to defend herself from outrages, of which the 
Revolution afforded too many examples.' 

The deadly hostility between the Girondins and the 

Mountaineers increased daily. The former are accused 

of wishing to establish an aristocracy of talent on the 

ruins of the aristocracy of rank ; the latter were for lev- 

12* 



206 MADAME ROLAND. 

elling all distinctions, even to breaking down the boun- 
daries between vice and virtue. The Girondins, con- 
scious of upright motives, were no doubt too stern and 
unconciliating toward their opponents, and too irascible 
in debate : but the Mountaineers were a violent, reckless 
set of demagogues, whose most proper appellation would 
have been the Hurra-Party. Having no regard for the 
courtesies of life, the principles of truth, or the decen- 
cies of language, they attacked their enemies in the 
most profligate and shameless manner. Placards were 
posted in the streets, in which Roland was not only 
accused of corruption, but the dagger was still more 
effectually struck at his heart by open charges against 
his virtuous wife. At last, finding it impossible to 
allay the tempest, and weary of being the member of 
a council without energy, and of a government without 
power, Roland gave in his accounts to the Convention, 
and asked his dismission. His request was granted. 
Marat proposed that he should not be allowed to quit 
Paris. The ex-Minister of the Interior, relying on the 
exactness of his accounts, demanded a report on his 
administration ; but his enemies knew his integrity too 
well, to allow him such an advantage. His ruin was 
resolved upon, and his friends were too weak to pre- 
vent it. 

At the time of the insurrection of the 31st of May, 
an attempt was made to arrest him. Madame Roland 
thus describes the scene : 

1 It was half after five in the evening, when six men 
armed came to our house. One of them read to Roland 
an order of the revolutionary committee, by the author- 



MADAME ROLAND. 207 

Ity of which they came to apprehend him. ' I know no 
law,' said Roland, ' which constitutes the authority you 
cite to me, and I shall obey no orders proceeding from 
it. If you employ violence, I can only oppose to you 
the resistance of a man of my years ; but I shall protest 
against it to the last moment.' — ' I have no order to 
employ violence,' .replied the person, ' and I will leave 
my colleagues here, while I go and report your answer 
to the council of the commune.' 

' Immediately it occurred to me, that it would be well 
to announce this circumstance to the Convention with 
some noise, in order to prevent the arrest of Roland, or 
to obtain his prompt release, if this should be carried 
into execution. To communicate the thought to my 
husband, write a letter to the president, and set out, was 
the business of a few minutes. My servant was absent. 
I left a friend, who was in the house, with Roland, and 
stept alone into a hackney-coach, which I ordered to 
proceed as fast as possible to the Carrousel. The court 
of the Tuileries was filled with armed men. I crossed, 
and flew through the midst of them like a bird. I was 
dressed in a morning gown, and had put on a black 
shawl, and a veil. On my arrival at the doors of the 
outer halls, which were all shut, I found sentinels, who 
allowed no one to enter, or sent me by turns from one 
door to another. In vain I insisted on admission. At 
length I bethought myself of employing such language 
as might have been uttered by some devotee of Robes- 
pierre : " But, citizens, in this day of salvation for our 
country, in the midst of those traitors we have to fear, 
you know not of what importance some notes I have to 



208 MADAME ROLAND. 

transmit to the president may be. Let me at least see 
one of the messengers, that I may entrust them to him." 
' The door opened, and I entered into the petitioners' 
hall. I inquired for a messenger of the house. " Wait 
till one comes out," said one of the inner sentinels. A 
quarter of an hour passed away. I perceived Roze, 
the person who brought me the. decree of the Convention, 
which invited me to repair to the barton occasion of the 
ridiculous accusation of Viard, whom I overwhelmed 
with confusion. Now I solicited permission to appear 
there, and announced Roland to be in danger, with which 
the public weal was connected. But circumstances were 
no longer the same, though my rights were equal. Be- 
fore invited, now a suppliant, could I expect the same 
success ? Roze took charge of my letter ; understood 
the subject of my impatience ; and repaired to lay it on 
the table, and urge its being read. An hour elapsed. I 
walked hastily backwards and forwards ; every time 
the door opened my eyes were cast towards the hall, 
but it was immediately shut by the guard. A fearful 
noise was heard at intervals. Roze again appeared. — ■ 
" Well ? " — ' Nothing has been done yet. A tumult I 
cannot, describe prevails in the assembly. Some pe- 
titioners, now at the bar, demand the ttoo-and-twenty to 
be apprehended. I have just assisted Ribaud to slip out 
without being seen ; they are not willing he should 
make the report of the commission of twelve ; he has 
been threatened ; several others are escaping ; there is 
no knowing what will be the event.' — " Who is the pre- 
sident now ? " — c Heraut Sechelles.' — " Ah ! my letter 
will not be read. Send some deputy to me, with whom 
I can speak a few words." — ' Whom?'—" Indeed I have 



MADAME ROLAND. 209 

been little acquainted, or have little esteem for any, but 
those who are proscribed. Tell Vergniaux I am inquir- 
ing for him." 

Koze went in quest of him. After a considerable 
time he appeared. We talked together for ten minutes. 
He went back into the hall, returned, and said to me, * In 
the present state of the assembly, I dare not natter you ; 
you have little to hope. If you get admission to the 
bar, you may obtain a little more favor as a woman ; 
but the Convention can do no more good.' — "It can do 
every thing," exclaimed I ; "for the majority of Paris 
seeks only to know what it has to do. If I were ad- 
mitted, I would venture to say, what you could not, 
without exposing yourself to an accusation. I fear no- 
thing ; and if I cannot save Roland, I will utter with 
energy truths, which will not be useless to the republic. 
Inform your worthy colleagues ; a burst of courage may 
have a great effect, and at least will set a great exam- 
ple." In fact, I was in that temper of mind, which im- 
parts eloquence. Warm with indignation, superior to 
all fear, my bosom glowing for my country, the ruin of 
which I foresaw, everything dear to me in the world ex- 
posed to the utmost danger, feeling strongly, expressing 
my sentiments with fluency, too proud not to utter them 
with dignity, I had subjects in which I was highly in- 
terested to discuss, possessed some means of defending 
them, and was in a singular situation for doing it with 
advantage. 

1 ' But at any rate, your letter cannot be read this 
hour or two. A plan of a decree, forming six articles, 
is going to be discussed. Petitioners, deputed by the 
sections, wait at the bar. Think what an attempt ! ' — 



210 M ADAME EOLAND, 

" I will go home then, to hear what has passed; and 
will immediately return ; so tell our friends." — 'Most of 
them are absent. They show themselves courageous, 
when they are here; but they are deficient in assiduity.' 
■— " That is unfortunately too true." 

1 1 quitted Vergniaux : I flew to Louvet's t I wrote a 
note to inform him of what was going on, and what I 
foresaw. I flung myself into a hackney-coach, and or* 
dered it home. The poor horses answered not the speed 
of my wishes. Soon we were. met by some battalions* 
whose march stopped us ; I jumped out of the coach, 
paid the coachman, rushed through the ranks, and made 
off! This was near the Louvre. I ran to our house, 
which was opposite St, Come, in Harp-street. The 
porter whispered me, that Roland was gone into the 
landlord's, at the bottom of the court. Thither I repair* 
ed, in a profuse perspiration. A glass of wine was 
brought me, and I was told that the bearer of the 
mandate of arrest having returned, without being able 
to procure a hearing at the council, Roland had persist- 
ed in protesting against his orders ; and that these good 
people had demanded his protest in writing, and had then 
withdrawn : after which Roland went through the land- 
lord's apartment, and got out of the house the back way. 
I did the same to find him, to inform him of what I had 
done, and to acquaint him with the steps I meant to 
pursue. At the first house to which I repaired, I found 
him not : in the second I did. From the solitariness of 
the streets, which were illuminated, I presumed it was 
late ; yet this did not prevent my design of returning to 
the convention. There I would have appeared ignorant 
of Roland's escape, and spoken as I before intended. I 



was about to set off on foot, without being conscious* 
that it was past ten o'clock, and that I was out that day 
for the first time since my illness, which demanded rest 
and the bath. A hackney-coach was brought me. On 
approaching the Carrousel, I saw nothing more of the 
armed force : two pieces of cannon, and a few men, 
were still at the gate of the national palace : I went up 
to it, and found the sitting was dissolved ! 

' What, on the day of an insurrection, when the sound 
iof the alarm-bell scarcely ceases to strike the ear, when 
forty thousand men in arms surrounded the convention 
only two hours before, and petitioners threatened its 
members from the bar, the assembly is not permanent I 

— Surely then it is completely subjugated ! it has done 
everything that it Was ordered ! The revolutionary 
power is so mighty, that the convention dares not op* 
pose it and it has no need of the convention S 

' " Citizens,'* said I to some sans-culottes collected 
round a cannon , " has everything gone well ?" — " O 
wonderfully ! they embraced, and sung the hymn of 
the Marseillese, there, under the tree of liberty."—* 
" What then, is the right side appeased ?"— " Faith * it 
was obliged to listen to reason.'' — " And what of the 
committee of twelve ?" — " It is kicked into the ditch." 

— " And the twenty-two ?"— " The municipality will 
cause them to be taken up."-—" Good t but can it ?"— =* 
" Is it not the sovereign ? It was necessary it should, 
to set those b ■ of traitors right, and support the 
commonwealth."—" But will the departments be well 
pleased to see their representatives * * * * " — " What 
are you talking of ? the Parisians do nothing but in 
concert with the departments s they have said so to the 



212 MADAME EOtASB. 

convention." — " That is not too clear, for, to know 
their will, the primary assemblies should have met." — 
" Were they wanting on the 10th of August ? Did not 
the departments approve what Paris did then ? They 
do the same now ; it is Paris that saves them."—" That 
ruins them rather, perhaps." 

i I had crossed the court, and arrived at my hackney- 
coach, as I finished this dialogue with an old sans-cu- 
lotte, no doubt well paid to tutor the dupes. A pretty 
dog pressed close at my heels : — " Is the poor creature 
your's ?" said the coachman to me, with a tone of sensi- 
bility very rare among his fellows, which struck me 
extremely. — " No : I am not acquainted with him," 
answered I gravely, as if I were speaking of a man, and 
already thinking of something else : " you will set me 
down at the galleries of the Louvre." There I intend- 
ed to call on a friend, with whom I would consult on 
the means of getting Roland out of Paris. We had not 
gone a dozen yards before the coach stopped. " What 
is the matter ?" said I to the coachman. — " Ah, he has 
left me, like a fool ; and I wanted to keep him for my 
little boy. He would have been highly pleased with 
him. Wheugh! Wheugh ! Wheugh !" — I recollected 
the dog : it was gratifying to me to have for a coach- 
man, at such an hour, a man of a good heart, of feeling, 
and a father. " Endeavor to catch him," said I : " you 
shall put him into the coach, and I will take care of 
him for you." — The good man, quite delighted, caught 
the dog, opened the door* and gave him to me for a com- 
panion. The poor animal appeared sensible, that he 
had found protection and an asylum : I was greatly ca- 
ressed by him, and I thought of that tale of Sandi, in 



MADAME ROLAND. 213 

which Is described an old man, weary of his fellow crea- 
tures, and disgusted with their passions, who retired 
to a wood, in which he constructed himself a dwel- 
ling, of which he sweetened the solitude by means of 
some animals, who repaid his cares with testimonies ot 
affection, and with a species of gratitude, to which he 
confined himself, for want of meeting with its like 
among mankind. 

1 Pasquier had just gone to bed. He rose : I propo- 
sed to him my plan. We agreed that he should come 
to me the next day after seven o'clock, and I would in- 
form him where to find his friend. I returned to my 
coach : it was stopped by the sentry, at the post of the 
Woman of Samaria. " Have a little patience :" whis- 
pered the coachman to me, turning back on his seat : 
" it is the custom at this time of night." — The sergeant 
came and opened the door. " Who is here ? " — " A 
woman." — "Whence do you come?" — "From the 
Convention." — " It is very true :" added the coachman^ 
as if he feared, I should not be credited. — "Whither 
are you going? " — " Home." — " Have you no bundles ?' s 
- — "I have nothing. See." — "But the assembly has 
broken up." — " Yes : at which I am very sorry, for I 
had a petition to make." — " A woman ! at this hour ! 
it is very strange : it is very imprudent." — " No doubt 
it is not a very common occurrence : I must have had 
strong reasons for it." — " But, madam, alone !" — " How, 
sir, alone ! Do you not see I have innocence and truth 
with me ? what more is necessary ?" — " I must sub- 
mit to your reasons."- — " And you do well :" replied I, 
in a gentler tone ; " for they are good." 

* The horses were so fatigued, that the coachman was 



214 MADAME ROLAND. 

obliged to pull them by the bridle, to get them up the 
hill, in the street in which I resided. I got home : I 
dismissed him : and I had ascended eight or ten steps, 
when a man, close at my heels, who had slipped in at 
the gate unperceived by the porter, begged me to con- 
duct him to citizen Roland. — " To his apartments, with 
all my heart, if you have any thing of service to him to 
impart ; but to him is impossible." — " This evening he 
will certainly be apprehended."—" They must be very 
dexterous, who accomplish it."—" You give me great 
pleasure ; for it is an honest citizen who accosts you." 
" I am glad of it," said I, and went on, without well 
knowing what to think of the adventure.' 

While Madame Roland was at the Convention, trying 
to arouse her husband's irresolute friends, he made his 
escape to a neighboring house, where she had an inter- 
view with him after she returned. The officers who a- 
gain came to arrest him, were much enraged. Roland, 
however, eluded their vigilance, and reached Rouen in 
safety, where he remained concealed till a week before 
his death. It seems probable that Madame Roland 
might likewise have effected her escape, had she taken 
the resolution promptly ; but heart-sick at the wretched 
condition of her country, she valued life less than she 
had done in the proud enthusiasm of her patriotic hopes ; 
and anxious to divert the fury of the populace from her 
husband, she made no effort to find a shelter from the 
storm. ' It would have cost me more trouble,' says she, 
* to escape from injustice, than it does to submit to it.' 

The National Seal was put upon their furniture. Du- 
ring this scene the rooms were crowded with the mob ; 
and the atmosphere became so filled with noisome ex- 



MADAME ROLAND. 215 

halations, that she was obliged to seek the window for 
fresh air. She was hurried away to prison on the 
charge of being an accomplice with the conspirators 
against the liberties of France. An armed force follow- 
ed the coach ; and as it passed along, some of the wo- 
men among the populace cried out, ' Away with her to 
the guillotine ! ' One of the commissioners asked, ' shall 
we close the blinds of the carriage?' Madame Roland 
replied, " No, gentlemen. I do not fear the eyes of the 
populace. Innocence should never assume the guise of 
crime." The officer answered, ' Madam, you have more 
strength of mind than many men. You wait patiently 
for justice!' — "Justice!" she exclaimed; "were jus- 
tice done, I should not be here. But if I am destined 
for the scaffold, I shall walk to it with the same firm- 
ness and tranquillity with which I now go to prison. 
I never feared anything but guilt. But my heart bleeds 
for my country. I regret my mistake in supposing it 
qualified for liberty and happiness." 

Having lodged her in the Abbey Prison, the Commis- 
sioners withdrew, leaving very severe orders with the 
keeper. Before they went, they took occasion to ob- 
serve that Roland's flight was a proof of his guilt ; to 
which she replied, ' There is something so abominable 
in persecuting a man who has rendered such important 
services in the cause of liberty, whose conduct has al- 
ways been so open, and whose accounts are so clear, 
that he is fully justified in avoiding the last outrages of 
envy and malice. Just as Aristides, and as severe as 
Cato, he is indebted to his virtues for his enemies. Let 
them satiate their fury on me — I defy its power, and 
devote myself to death. He ought to save himself for 



216 MADAME ROLAND, 

the sake of a country to which he may yet do good.*— - 
An awkward and confused bow was the only answer 
the officers thought fit to make. 

Neither promises nor threats could induce her to re- 
veal the secret of her husband's retreat. Her constant 
reply was, * I scorn to tell a falsehood ; I know his 
plans ; but I neither ought nor choose to tell them.' 

Eudora was left by her mother to the care of the 
weeping domestics. " Those people love you," observ- 
ed one of the Commissioners. ' I never had those about 
me who did not,' she replied. She alone remained 
calm and proud, amid the most touching demonstrations 
of affection and distress. Soon after her departure, the 
kind-hearted Bosc, who had long been a friend to the 
Minister and his wife, took upon himself the responsi- 
bility of providing for Eudora ; and immediately placed 
her with a worthy woman, who watched over her with 
truly maternal tenderness. 

By the kindness of the keeper and his wife, Madame 
Roland was made as comfortable as a prisoner could 
be ; the woman expressed the regret she always felt 
when female prisoners were brought in ; adding, " all 
of them have not your serene countenance, madam." 

Madame Roland's first care was to arrange her little 
apartment with neatness and order. She had Thomson's 
Seasons in her pocket ; and she procured Hume's His- 
tory and Sheridan's Dictionary, in order to pursue her 
study of the English language. While she was mak- 
ing those peaceful preparations, the drums were beating, 
the alarm-bells were ringing — and in the night she was 
continually awakened by the thundering voices of the 



MADAME ROLAND. £17 

patroles under her window, calling out, ' Who goes 
there ? — Kill him ! — Guard ! — Patrole ! ' 

Firm and unmoved in the anticipation of her own 
fate, her heart often bled at the thought of what her 
friends were suffering on her account ; particularly ' Ro- 
land proscribed and persecuted, and compelled to drink 
the bitter cup of his wife's imprisonment.' By the con- 
nivance of the compassionate keeper, several of her 
friends gained access to her. A favorite maid, who had 
lived with her many years, was willing to devote her- 
self to her even unto death ; and through her she fre- 
quently conveyed her opinions and wishes to the politi- 
cal friends of her husband. By their advice she wrote 
an eloquent Address to the National Convention, which 
concludes thus : ! Lastly, I demand of the Convention 
a Report on the accounts of that irreproachable man, 
who seems destined to give Europe a terrible lesson of 
virtue proscribed by the blindness of infuriate prejudice. 
If to have shared the strictness of his principles, the en- 
ergy of his mind, the ardor of his love for liberty, be a 
crime — then indeed I acknowledge myself guilty, and 
await my punishment. Pronounce your sentence, le- 
gislators ! France, freedom, the fate of the republic, 
and of yourselves, depend on your decision.' 

Two other addresses were written by the prisoner, to 
demand a statement of the crimes for which she had 
been arrested, and to insist upon an open and impartial 
trial ; one was addressed to the Minister of Justice, the 
other to the Minister of the Home Department. Hear- 
ing that their Section (that of Beaurepaire) had expres- 
sed sentiments highly favorable to Roland, she resolved 
13 



218 MADAME ROLAND. 

to place herself under its protection. In her letter she 
says, ' If the section think it not beneath its dignity to 
plead the cause of suffering innocence, it will be easy 
to send a deputation to the bar of the Convention to 
make known my complaints, and to add weight to my 
arguments ; I submit this point to its wisdom ; I add no 
entreaties. Those who love justice do not need peti- 
tions ; and innocence and truth should never resort to 
supplication.* 

The section were desirous of affording protection ; 
but their timid efforts afforded no barrier to the over- 
whelming power of the Mountain Party. Madame Ro- 
land, in the meantime, completely gained the hearts of 
her keeper and his attendants, by her patient cheerful- 
ness. She waited entirely upon herself, because she 
preferred to be employed, and because she did not ex- 
pect to find in a prison the scrupulous neatness which 
her habits required ; yet unwilling to deprive the ser- 
vants of their customary perquisites, she frequently 
made them presents. Her food was as simple as the 
repasts of an anchorite ; but despising useless economy, 
the money saved in this way was distributed among her 
fellow prisoners. The first five weeks were employed 
in writing Historic Notices of the scenes she had -wit- 
nessed, and the characters with whom she had associa- 
ted. The person to whom she intrusted these docu- 
ments was placed in great peril, and she was led to sup- 
pose that he had destroyed them to secure his own 
safety. The idea seems to have distressed her more 
than any of her previous misfortunes. She busied her- 
self to repair the loss ; and as both sets of papers were 



MADAME ROLAND. . 219 

afterward published with her memoirs, there is of course 
a good deal of repetition. 

Her friends, being aware of her passionate love of 
flowers, found means to send them to her frequently. 
She says, ' The sight of a flower always delighted my 
imagination, and flattered my senses, to an inexpressible 
degree. Under the happy shelter of my paternal roof, 
I was happy from infancy with my flowers and books ; 
in the narrow confines of a prison, with books and flow- 
ers, I can forget my own misfortunes, and the injustice 
of mankind.' The jailer used to admire the pleasure 
she took in arranging her bouquets; he often said to her, 
' I shall always call this room the Pavilion of Flora, in 
remembrance of you.' The next occupant of that apart- 
ment was her friend Brissot ; and the next was the cel- 
ebrated Charlotte Corday. 

The promised examination was deferred. She says, 
' However, I sometimes received visits from adminis- 
trators, with foolish faces and dirty ribands, some of 
whom said they belonged to the police, and others to 
I know not what ; violent sans-mdottes, with filthy 
hair, who came to know if the prisoners were satisfied 
with their treatment. They asked, ' Is your health im- 
paired ? Does solitude affect your spirits ? ' — i No. I 
am well and cheerful. Ennui is the disease of hearts 
without feeling, and of minds without resources. All I 
ask is an examination, that I may know why I am im- 
prisoned.' — 'In a revolution there is so much to do, 
that there is not time for everything.' * A woman said 
to King Philip, ' if you have not time to do justice, you 
have no time to be a king.' Tell the sovereign people 



220 MADAME ROLAND. 

the same things ; or rather the arbitrary authorities by 
whom the people are misled.' ' 

Madame Roland would never comply with the popu- 
lar whim of substituting the word Citizen for the cus- 
tomary appellation of Monsieur. The Jacobin officers, 
who came to look at her in her cage, were highly incen- 
sed at her obstinacy in accosting them with a title they 
had branded as aristocratic. 

On the 24th of June, two men came to inform her 
that she was at liberty ; and before noon she bade fare- 
well to the kind jailer and his wife. The following is 
her account of this cruel mockery : ' I drove home to 
leave a few things there, intending to proceed immedi- 
ately to the house of the worthy people, who had so gen- 
erously protected my daughter. I quitted the hackney- 
coach with that activity which never allowed me to get 
out of a carriage without jumping, passed under the 
gateway like a bird, and said cheerfully to the porter as 
I went by, ' Good morning, Lamarre ! ' I had scarcely 
put my foot upon the steps, when two men who had 
followed me closely, called out, '' Citoyenne Roland !' 
— 'What do you wish ?' — 'In the name of the law, 
we arrest you ! ' — Those who have feelings, can imag- 
ine something of what I felt at that moment.' . She 
asked permission to go to her landlord's house on some 
business ; and the officers followed her thither. Here 
she avowed her resolution of putting herself under the 
protection of her section. Her landlord's son, with all 
the warmth and indignation of youth, immediately offer- 
ed to carry a message for her. He was afterward drag- 
ged to the scaffold for this act of generosity, and his 
father died of grief. Two commissioners of her sec- 



MADAMS ROLAND, 221 

iiofr came and attended her to the mayor's, She remain* 
ed guarded in the antichamber, while the discussion 
went on with increasing warmth ; in vain she pleaded 
her right to be present at a debate of which she was the 
subject. But when a police-officer came to take her in- 
to custody, she set the door of the office wide open, and 
exclaimed aloud, ' Commissioners of the section of 
Beaurepaire ! I give you notice they are taking me to 
prison ! ' ' We cannot help it,' was the reply ; ' But 
the section will not forget you ; you shall have a public 
examination.' Noise and fury left no chance for reason 
to be heard : She was conveyed to the prison of Smnte 
Pelagie. The wing appropriated to females was divid- 
ed into long narrow corridors, on one side of which Were 
very small cells; one of which Madame Roland occu* 
pied. Under the same roof, upon the same line, and 
separated- only by a very thin partition, were murderers, 
and women of the town; and in the morning, (the only 
time when the doors were opened) this scum of the earth 
collected in the corridors. Under such circumstances, 
Madame Roland, of course, confined herself very strict- 
ly to her cells ; but the thinness of the partitions com- 
pelled her to hear the blasphemous and lascivious con- 
versation of these wretches. To make the state of 
things Worse, the apartments occupied by the men 
had windows fronting the cells occupied by these a- 
bandoned women ; and during the whole day she could 
not raise her eyes to the windows without witnessing 
some specimen of human depravity. Even in the re- 
motest corner of her noisome cell she could not shut her 
ears against disgusting language. She says, ' Such 
13* 



222 MADAME ROLAND, 

was the dwelling- reserved for the virtuous wife of an 
honest man ! Who can wonder at my contempt of life ? 
Who cannot understand that death itself had charms. 
Such are the signs of liberty given by men, who, in the 
Champ de Mars, send up birds carrying streamers, to 
announce to the inhabitants of the upper regions the 
freedom and felicity of the earth.' 

The jailer's wife, impressed with the serene dignity 
of her manners, invited her to pass the days in her little 
parlor. A piano was brought, with which she some- 
times wiled away the lingering hours ; and her friends 
still found means to cheer her with her favorite flow- 
ers. Hope, for a while, revived her patriotic zeal ; for 
the' rising of several departments announced the indig- 
nation of the people, and threatened the overthrow of 
Robespierre. She was not, however, suffered to enjoy 
the external means of comfort which had been offered 
her. The inspectors of the prisons severely repriman- 
ded the jailer's wife for her kindness, telling her it was 
her business to maintain equality. Thus Madame Ro- 
land was compelled to return to the fetid air of the cor- 
ridor, sadly illuminated by a lamp, the smoke of, which 
suffocated the whole neighborhood. 

True to the firmness and consistency of her charac- 
ter, she comforted the jailer's wife by the cheerful resig- 
nation with which she submitted to the change. In the 
morning she read English in Thomson's Seasons, and 
Shaftsbury's Essay on Virtue. She then amused her- 
self with drawing until dinner-time ; speaking of the 
pleasure she found in this employment, she urges the 
necessity of acquiring accomplishments as a resource in 
solitude and sorrow. The afternoons she devoted to 



MADAME ROLAND. 223 

Plutarch and Tacitus. The latter inspired her with 
passionate admiration. She says, [ If fate had allowed 
me to live, I believe I should have been ambitious of 
but one thing ; and that would have been to write the 
Annals of the Present Age. I cannot go to sleep till I 
have read a portion of Tacitus. It seems to me that 
we see things in the same light, and that, in time, and 
with a subject equally rich, it would not have been im- 
possible for me to imitate his style.' 

It was some alleviation to her situation, that Robes- 
pierre filled the neighboring corridors with virtuous 
women ; like her, the victims of the most abominable 
tyranny that ever disgraced the earth. Some of these 
ladies were the wives of Roland's political friends. 
Their fortunes were confiscated to the nation, and they 
often suffered for the common necessaries of life. Mad- 
ame Roland being unable to meet her few and simple 
wants, asked one of her former domestics to sell some 
empty bottles in her cellar, on which the seal of the 
nation had not been placed ; but a great outcry was- 
immediately raised, and a guard placed round the 
house. 

Madame Roland remained in the cell of Sainte Pe« 
lagie until the 1st of October. Her friends wished to 
assist her in making her escape ; but she answered, ' I 
have fixed my resolution to remain here and await 
my fate ; my flight would only exasperate my hus- 
band's enemies.' 

In prison, surrounded by dangers and alarms of every 
kind, hourly expecting a summons to the scaffold, she 
wrote her memoirs. Calumniated on all sides, she 
was naturally desirous that posterity should grant to 



224 MADAME ROLAND, 

her husband and herself the impartial hearing 1 , which 
their cotemporaries denied. She says, ' I shall exhibit 
the fair and unfavorable side of my character with equal 
freedom. He who dares not speak well of himself is 
generally a coward, knowing and dreading the evil that 
may be said of him ; and he, who hesitates to confess 
his faults, has neither spirit to vindicate, nor virtue to 
repair them. Thus frank with respect to myself, I 
shall not be scrupulous with regard to others. Fath- 
er, mother, friends, husband — I shall paint them all 
in their proper colors ; at least as they appeared 
to me.' 

As these memoirs followed the current of her 
thoughts, without any order, they are naturally inter- 
spersed with apostrophes, and reflections, of which the 
following are a sample : ' My much revered husband, 
grown Weak and weary of the world, and sunk into 
premature old age, which you preserve by painful ef- 
forts from the pursuit of the assassins — shall I ever be 
permitted to see you again, to pour the balm of conso- 
lation into your sorely bruised heart ?*^- How much 
longer am I destined to remain a witness of the desola- 
tion of my native land, and the degradation of my 
countrymen ? Assailed by these afflicting images, 1 
cannot steel my heart against sorrow : a few scalding 
tears start from my heavy eyes : and the pen, that passed 
so lightly over my youthful days, is suffered to lie idle. 



' Thou Supreme Being ! Principle of everything 
that is good and great ! Thou, in whose existence I 
believe, because I must needs emanate from something 



MADAME ROLAND. 225 

better than what I see around me — I shall soon be re- 
united to thine essence.' 

-it- -it- *4k 4£* 4k 4fe 4£? 

■TV -Tv 'TV *7S' "TV" *!*• *jr 

< All, whom heaven in its bounty has given me for 
friends, I beseech you cherish my orphan. A young 
plant violently torn from its native soil, where it would, 
perchance, have been withered, or bruised by the spoil- 
er ; but you have placed her in a kindly shelter, be- 
neath a reviving shade. May her virtues repay your 
care ! * * * And she, my darling girl, 
cannot appear in the streets with her, beautiful fair hair, 
and her youthful bashfulness, but she is pointed at by 
hirelings, as the child of a conspirator.' 

' Farewell, my dear child, my worthy husband, my 
faithful servant, and my good friends — Farewell, thou 
sun, whose resplendent beams used to shed serenity 
over my soul, while they recalled it to the skies — Fare- 
well, ye solitary fields, which I have so often contem- 
plated with emotion — And you, ye rustic inhabitants of 
Thezee, who were wont to bless my presence, whom I 
attended in sickness, whose labors I alleviated, whose 
indigence I relieved, farewell. — Farewell, peaceful re- 
tirements, where I enriched my mind with moral truths, 
and learned, in the silence of meditation, to govern my 
passions, and despise the vanity of the world. 

' Splendid chimeras ! from which I have reaped so 
much delight, you are all dispelled by the horrible cor- 
ruptions of this vast city. Farewell, my country ! Su- 
blime illusions, generous sacrifices, hope, and happi- 
ness, farewell V 

"While in prison, she wrote a very remarkable letter 
to Robespierre, from which I cannot forbear taking an 



226 MADAME ROLAND. 

extract : — ' I regarded the first calumnies invented a- 
gainst me as contemptible follies ; but they have in- 
creased with effrontery proportioned to my calmness. I 
have been dragged to prison, where I have remained 
nearly five months ; far removed from everything dear 
to me ; loaded with the abuse of a deluded populace, 
who believe that my death will be conducive to their hap- 
piness ; hearing the guards under my grated window 
diverting themselves with the idea of my punishment ; 
and reading the offensive reproaches of writers who nev- 
er saw my face. Yet I have wearied no one with re- 
monstrances. Wanting many things, I have asked for 
nothing ; I have hoped for justice, and an end to preju- 
dice, from the hand of time. I have made up my mind 
to misfortune — proud of trying my strength with her, 
and trampling her under my feet. It is not, Robespierre, 
to excite your compassion, that I present you with a pic- 
ture less melancholy than the truth. I am above asking 
your pity ; and were it offered, I should perhaps deem 
it an insult. I write for your instruction. Fortune is 
fickle ; and popular favor is liable to change. Contem- 
plate the fate of those who have agitated, pleased, or 
governed the people, from Viscellinus to Caesar, and 
from Hippo of Syracuse to our Parisian orators ! . Jus- 
tice and truth alone remain, a consolation in every mis- 
fortune, even in the hour of death ; while nothing can 
shelter us from the strokes of conscience. Marius and 
Sylla proscribed thousands of knights, senators, and 
wretched men. Can they stifle the voice of history, 
which has devoted their memories to execration ? If 
you wish to be just, and attend to what I write, my letter 
will not be useless to you, and may possibly be of ser- 



MADAME ROLAND. 227 

vice to my country. Be that as it may, Robespierre, 
your conscience must tell you that a person who has 
known me cannot persecute' me without remorse.' 

This manly letter was not sent to the monster for 
whom it was designed, because she feared it would do 
no good, and only serve to exasperate a tyrant ' who 
might sacrifice her, but who could not degrade her.' 

The two following letters were written October 18th, 
1793. 

* TO MY DAUGHTER. 

' I do not know, my dear girl, whether I shall 
be allowed to see or write to you again. Remember 
your mother. In these few words is contained the 
best advice I can give you. You have seen me 
happy in fulfilling my duties, and in giving assist- 
ance to those in distress. It is the only way of 
being happy. You have seen me tranquil in mis- 
fortune and confinement, because I was free from 
remorse, and because I enjoyed the pleasing recollec- 
tions, that good actions leave behind them. These are 
the only things that can enable us to support the evils 
of life, and the vicissitudes of fortune. Perhaps you are 
not fated, and I hope you are not, to undergo trials so 
severe as mine ; but there are others, against which you 
ought to be equally on your guard. Serious and indus- 
trious habits are the best preservative against every 
danger ; and necessity, as well as prudence, commands 
you to persevere diligently in your studies. Be worthy 
of your parents. They leave you great examples to fol- 
low ; and if you are careful to avail yourself of them, 
your existence will not be useless to mankind. Fare- 




228 MADAME ROLAND. 

well, my beloved child — you who drew life from my 
bosom, and whom I wish to impress with all my senti- 
ments. Tne time will come, when you will be better 
able to judge of the efforts I make at this moment to 
repress the tender emotions excited by your dear image. 
I press you to my heart. Farewell, my Eudora.' 

' TO MY FAITHFUL SEEVANT, FLEI7RY. 

* My dear Fleury, whose fidelity and attachment have 
been so grateful to me for thirteen years, receive my 
embraces, and my farewell. Preserve the remembrance 
of what I was. It will console you for what I suffer. 
The good pass on to glory when they descend into the 
grave. My sorrows are nearly ended. Think of the 
peace I am about to enjoy, which nobody can disturb, 
and do not grieve for me. Tell my poor Agatha that 
I carry with me to the grave the satisfaction of be- 
ing beloved by her from my childhood, and the regret 
of not being able to give her proofs of my attachment. 
I could have wished to be of service to you — at least, 
do not let me afflict you. Farewell, my poor Fleury — 
farewell.' 

The first of October witnessed the execution of the 
twenty-two deputies of the Girondins ; and soon after, 
Madame Roland was removed to the prison of the Con- 
ciergerie ; where she was placed in a noisome room, 
and compelled to sleep without sheets, upon abed which 
a fellow-prisoner was good enough to lend her. Two 
days successively she was called before the tribunal for 
examination. On these occasions she exhibited her u- 
sual fearless eloquence, and unbending courage, temper- 
ed with an extreme degree of caution in all that could 



MADAME ROLAND. 229 

implicate her husband, or friends. When asked if she 
had any idea where Roland was, she answered, ' I know 
of no law which requires me to betray the dearest sen- 
timents of nature.' Upon which, the public accuser ex- 
claimed that there was no end to her loquacity. She 
smiled serenely as she retired from the tribunal, saying, 
' How I pity you ! I forgive the unworthy things 
you have said to me. You believe me to be a great 
criminal, and are impatient to convict me ; but how un- 
fortunate are those who cherish such prejudices ! You 
can send me to the scaffold ; but you cannot deprive me 
of the satisfaction I derive from a good conscience, nor 
of the belief that posterity will revenge Roland and me, 
by consigning our persecutors to infamy. In return for 
the ill you mean to do me, I wish you the same peace 
of mind that I enjoy, whatever may be its reward.' 

Being desired to choose an advocate for her trial, she 
named Chauveau. That night she wrote a defence,^ 
which she intended to read before the tribunal : it is re- 
markable for its acuteness', eloquence, boldness and pow- 
er. But alas, of what avail was reason against such 
men as she contended with ! 

The trial was a mockery. * Madame Roland was not 
allowed to speak ; and hired ruffians vomited forth the 
most atrocious calumnies before other ruffians — all the 
execrable tools of Robespierre. A man, who had serv- 
ed M. Roland about eight months, was the only one 
who dared to speak truth ; and he was soon after sent 
to the scaffold to atone for the crime.' ' Madame Ro- 
land went to the place of trial with her usual firmness ; 

* This defence is added at the end of the volume. 



230 MADAME ROLAND. 

but when she returned, her eyes were glistening with 
tears. She had been treated with so much brutality, 
and questions so injurious to her honor had been asked, 
that her grief and indignation burst forth together.' 

When her advocate came to concert with her the 
means of defence for the ensuing day, she listened calm- 
ly, and drawing a ring from her finger, presented it to 
him, saying, ' Do not come to the tribunal to-morrow. 
It cannot save me ; and it may ruin you. Accept the 
only token my poor gratitude can offer. To-morrow, I 
shall no longer exist.' 

At one time she procured opium and resolved to die 
by her own hand ; she wrote her will, and gave detail- 
ed directions concerning the education of her daughter, 
and the management of that small part of her fortune, 
which she vainly hoped the laws would protect from the 
power of her enemies. She wrote to the lady who pro- 
tected Eudora, expressing a wish that she might be sent 
to the paternal estate in the country, ' there to wait for 
happier days ; to cultivate her faculties, and prepare to 
meet reverses without fearing them, as well as to enjoy 
prosperity without being ambitious of it; according to 
the example of parents, who lived without reproach and 
would die without terror.' 

While in this frame of mind, she writes thus : ' Two 
months ago I aspired to the honor of ascending the scaf- 
fold ; for the victim was then allowed to speak, and the 
energy of a courageous mind might have been service- 
able to the cause of truth. But why should I now expose 
myself to the brutal insolence of a mob too much delud- 
ed to derive any benefit from my death ?' 

Being summoned as a witness concerning the accusa- 



MADAME ROLAND. 231 

tions against her political friends, she says, ' I wish to 
deserve death by giving in my testimony while they 
live ; I am impatient for the summons ; for I am afraid 
of losing the chance. This induces me to change the 
purpose for which all was prepared when I made my 
will. I will drain the bitter cup to the last drop. 
Truth, Friendship, my Country ! Sacred objects, sen- 
timents dear to my heart, accept my last sacrifice ! My 
life was devoted to you, and you will render my death 
easy and glorious. I never feared any thing but guilt, 
and I will not purchase life at the expense of a base 
subterfuge. Woe to the times ! woe to the people ! a- 
mong whom doing homage to disregarded truth can be 
attended with danger, and happy he who in such cir- 
cumstances is bold enough to brave it.' 

When sentence of death was pronounced against her, 
she said to her judges, ' You have thought me worthy 
to partake the fate of the great and good men, whom 
you have murdered ; I shall try to carry to the scaffold 
the same courage that they have sh&wn.' 

' On the day of her execution, she was dressed neatly 
in white, which was chosen as a symbol of her inno- 
cence ; and her long black hair fell in ringlets to her 
waist. After her condemnation, she passed into the pri- 
son with a quick step, that seemed like joy, and indicat- 
ed to her fellow-prisoners, by an expressive gesture that 
she was condemned to die. Lamarche was her com- 
panion in misfortune ; and his courage was not equal to 
her own ; but on her way to the scaffold, she talked 
with such unaffected cheerfulness that she made him 
smile several times. When arrived at the place of exe- 
cution, she bowed before the statue of Liberty, and utter- 



232 MADAME ROLAND. 

ed the memorable words — ' Oh liberty ! vihat crimes 
are committed in thy name V 

Tlie following description of her is taken from 
RoiurTe's ' Memoirs of a Prisoner ; or a History of the 
Tyranny of Robespierre.' Roiuffe was one of her com- 
panions in peril : ' Well aware of the fate that await- 
ed her, her tranquillity remained undisturbed. Though 
past the prime of life, she was still a charming woman. 
She was tall, and elegantly formed. Her countenance 
was expressive ; but misfortune and long confinement 
had left traces of melancholy on her face, which temper- 
ed its natural vivacity. She had the soul of a republi- 
can in a body moulded by the graces ; and fashioned by 
a certain courtly style of elegance. v There was some- 
thing more than the usual feminine expression in her 
large dark eyes, which were soft and full of meaning. 
She often spoke to me at the bars with the freedom and 
courage of a great man. Such republican language in 
the mouth of a beautiful French woman, preparing for 
the scaffold, was a miracle of the Revolution, for which 
we were not prepared. We all stood listening to her 
with admiration and astonishment. Her conversation 
was serious without being cold; and she expressed her- 
self with such a choice of words, such harmony and 
cadence, that the ear was never satiated with the mu- 
sic of her language. She spoke of her political friends 
with respect ; but without effeminate regret, and often 
lamented their want of firmness. Sometimes her sex 
resumed the ascendency ; and we saw that she had been 
weeping at the recollection of her husband and her child. 
The woman who waited on her, said to me one day, 
' Before you, she summons all her courage ; but in her 



MADAME ROLAND, 233 

own room, she sometimes leans against- the casement, 
and weeps for hours together.' This union of softness 
and fortitude rendered her the more interesting. She 
remained eight days at the Conciergerie ; and in that 
short time rendered herself dear to all the prisoners, who 
sincerely deplored her fate.' 

Madame Talma, wife of the celebrated actor, was 
confined in the prison with Madame Roland. She says, 
' She behaved with great heroism on her way to the 
scaffold, but the evening before, she was uncommonly 
agitated. She spent the night in playing on the harp- 
sichord ; but the air she struck, and her manner of play- 
ing, were so strange, so shocking, and so frightful, that 
the sounds will never escape my memory.' 

The following account published in the Moniteur, a 
paper in the service of her most violent enemies, cor- 
roborates the account of her fortitude, though it chooses 
to ascribe her firmness to the most unworthy motives. 
' Roland's wife, — a genius for great projects, a philoso- 
pher of well-worded billets, a queen of the moment, sur- 
rounded by mercenary writers, to whom she gives sup- 
pers, distributing favors, places, and money, — was a 
monster in every point of view. The disdainful looks 
she cast upon the people, and the judges chosen by the 
people, the proud obstinacy of her replies, her ironical 
gayety, and the firmness of which she made such a pa- 
rade, as she passed from the Palais de Justice to the 
Place de la Revolution, proved that her heart cherish- 
ed no tender and affecting remembrance. Nevertheless, 
she was a mother ; but she had sacrificed nature by her 
attempts to rise above it. Her desire to be considered 
14 



234 Madame eoland. 

a talented and learned woman led her to forget the vip 
tues appropriate to her sex ; and this forgetfulness, al- 
ways dangerous, finally led her to the scaffold. ' 

Here is a precious moral lesson from the satellites of 
Kobespierre ! men, who had neither virtue, learning, nor 
any other quality, that dignifies human nature — whose 
characters present the most disgusting and awful com- 
bination of the beasts of the earth with the spirits of the 
lower regions. 

Madame Roland had faults, and, in some respects, her 
opinions are only useful in teaching us what to avoid 5 
but it is not true that her talents led her to neglect the 
domestic virtues ; on this subject) she thought wisely, 
and conducted admirably. 

The Hon. A. H. Everett, in his Lecture before the 
Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association, pays 
the following tribute to the memory of Madame Ro- 
land : — 

' But the most interesting person among the Giron- 
dins, and the one who may perhaps be considered the 
leader of the party, was the celebrated Madame Roland. 
Though educated under circumstances not favorable to 
improvement, she had by the mere force of her own 
talent, placed herself on a level, in point of information 
and extent of views, with the highest minds of her own, 
or any other time. She co-operated actively with her 
husband in the discharge of the duties of his depart- 
ment, and although she shared, in no small degree, the 
exaggerations and delusions of the period, she never- 
theless exhibited a sounder sense, and a more resolute 
humanity than any of her political associates. She 
made the strongest effort in particular to prevent hei 



Mt A ID A M fi JIOLANB. £&§ 

friends from being- carried away by the more violent 
party, into a co-operation with 'the measures that led to 
the trial and condemnation of the unfortunate king. 
She wrote with an eloquence and manly vigor, which 
would have done honor to the best authors in the lan- 
guage. 5 

The London Critical Review says, * As a Woman-, 
Madame Roland must be admired for her fancy, her 
abilities, her fidelity, and her magnanimity in suffering. 
She was, however, far from being exempt from the 
most common failings of her sex or nation. In any 
country but her own-, in any situation but that of a pro* 
scribed and persecuted woman, she would have made a. 
distinguished figure in life ; for she Was ambitious of 
distinction, and her abilities offered the only justifica- 
tion of which ambition is capable. The objections to 
her character are common to her with most of the French 
writers and politicians of that period. They are phi* 
losophers without wisdom, and moralists without relig* 
ion. They form theories which promise the duration of 
ages ; but their practice is the immediate feeling of the 
moment.' 

Madame Roland was executed on the 8th of Novem* 
ber, 1793, just as she Was entering her fortieth year* 
The sentence of condemnation was thus worded i i The 
public accuser has drawn up the present indictment 
against Manon-Jeanne Phlipon,the wife of Roland, here* 
tofore minister of the interior, for having wickedly, and 
designedly, aided and assisted in the conspiracy which 
existed against the unity and indivisibility of the repub* 
lie, against the liberty and safety of the French people, 
by assembling at her house, in secret council, the prin* 



236 MADAME ROLAND- 

cipal chiefs of that conspiracy, and by keeping up a 
correspondence tending- to facilitate their liberticide de- 
signs. The tribunal, having heard the public accuser 
deliver his reasons concerning the application of the 
law, condemns Manon- Jeanne Phlipon, wife of Roland* 
to the punishment of death.' 

Madame Roland had often said her husband would 
not long survive her. The news of her death at first 
deprived him of his senses ; which only returned to 
make him feel more acutely the extremity of anguish 
and despair. At first he resolved to go to Paris, to brave 
the fury of the Convention by uttering a few bold truths, 
and then follow her he had so much loved to the scaf- 
fold. But as his public condemnation would involve 
the confiscation of all his property, he hoped to save his 
daughter from poverty by committing suicide. On the 
15th of November he left his retreat, being resolved not 
to bring ruin on his benefactors by betraying their gen- 
erosity. Having wandered several leagues toward Pa- 
ris, he stopped, leaned against a tree, and stabbed him- 
self with a sword, which he had carried in his cane. In 
his pocket was this letter : ' Whoever you may be, that 
find me in my last repose, respect my remains ! They 
are those of a man who consecrated his whole life to 
usefulness, and who has died as he lived, virtuous and 
honest. May my fellow-citizens learn to entertain more 
humane and gentle sentiments ; the blood which is flow- 
ing in torrents in my country dictates this advice : these 
massacres can only be instigated by the most cruel ene- 
mies of France. Indignation, not fear, induced me to 
quit my retreat. When I heard the fate of my wife, I 



MADAME ROLAND. 237 

no longer wished, to live in a world so polluted with 



crime 



His request was not complied with ; the rage of party 
spirit heaped the most insulting indignities upon his 
corpse. His fortune was confiscated to the nation. 

In 1795 Madame Roland's memoirs, accompanied by 
some detached notes and historic sketches, were publish- 
ed by M. Bosc, for the benefit of her orphan, under the 
title of An Appeal to Impartial Posterity ; in two octavo- 
volumes. In 1800 her works were all published, by her 
friend Champagneux, in three volumes ; consisting of 
the Appeal to Posterity ; works of Leisure Hours, and 
various Reflections ; A Journey to Souci, and Travels 
in England and Switzerland. 

It is a little remarkable that two women so much dis- 
tinguished as Madame* de Stael and Madame Roland 
should not have made the slightest allusion to each oth- 
er in their writings. Madame Roland was twelve years 
older than her celebrated cotemporary, and died before 
she obtained very extensive fame ; this may naturally 
enough account for her silence. But though their dif- 
ferent rank in society would prevent them from being 
personally known to each other, Madame de Stael must 
have heard of Madame Roland — she must have known 
how eloquently she wrote, and how courageously she 
suffered. Perhaps^ amid the confused accounts and wil- 
ful misrepresentations of that period she might have been 
led to confound the sincere but sometimes wild enthusi- 
ast, with the reckless and violent advocates of uproar 
and carnage. Madame de Stael being much admired 
and flattered by the higher circles of soeiety, naturally 
detested the spirit which led the Jacobins to persecute 



238 ' MADAME EOLAND. 

the aristocracy, and to condemn thousands to death for 
the mere accident of their birth and fortune : Madame 
Roland, from her different location, viewed society in a 
totally dissimilar light ; she seldom met any of the aris- 
tocracy without having her feelings wounded, or her 
pride insulted, by their arrogant pretensions : hence her 
strongest and deepest prejudices were all arrayed against 
them. For opposite reasons, perhaps these ladies were 
alike incapable of judging fairly of the existing evils in 
society, or of forming an impartial opinion of each other's 
merits. 

A stronger reason for Madame de StaePs silence, than 
mere party prejudice, may be found in the fact that 
Madame Roland spoke very contemptuously of M. 
Necker's talents, integrity, and patriotism : she describes 
him, as a man of moderate abilities, of whom the world 
had a good opinion, because he had a great opinion of 
himself, and loudly proclaimed it ; a financier, who knew 
only how to calculate the contents of a purse, and who 
was always talking about his character, as profligate 
women talk of their virtue.'^ 

Both Madame de Stael and Madame Roland are so 
much connected with political history, that the estima- 
tion in which they are held is still a matter of party 
spirit. Probably no advocates of Robespierre's misrule 
now exist to blacken the character of Madame Roland ; 
but the advocates of kings and nobles are very unwill- 
ing to allow that she had any merit, or deserves any 
applause. 

* All who liked a constitutional monarchy, or were early desirous of 
placing some limit to popular usurpation, were regarded by Madame 
ftoland, in the warmth of her zeal, as cold and selfish ; her censure 
and distrust fell upon La Fayette as well as upon M. Neeker. 



MADAME ROLAND. 239 

The ultra-royalists are not very partial to Madame de 
Stael, because she wished to see the power of the monarch 
restrained by a constitution ; and as she disliked jacobin- 
ism quite as much as she did tyranny, she pleased neith- 
er party, and was accused by both : in addition to this, 
the Bonapartists are quite willing to magnify all the im- 
perfections of a woman, whose very biography must cast 
a blot on the character of their hero ; they aver that she 
could not have been a true friend to freedom, because 
she was the enemy of him who styled himself ' the peo- 
ple's king' and ' the pacificator of Europe.' 

Madame de Stael's appeal in favor of the Queen, and. 
her sympathy with the proscribed nobility, among whom 
were some of her most intimate friends, has been brought 
forward as a proof that she was not sincere in her pro- 
fessed love of liberty. I do not pretend to judge of the 
correctness of her political tendencies, — for those who 
know more than myself might well hesitate to declare 
what form of government would have been best for 
Prance, at that distracted period, — but I am sure that 
no true republican will like her less for her ready and 
active compassion : For myself, I care little whether she 
had the wisdom of statesmen in her head, so long as she 
had the kindness of woman in her heart. 

I respect and admire almost every point in Madame 
Roland's character. I love her for preferring the beau- 
ties of nature, and the quiet happiness of domestic life, 
to all the glittering excitements of society ; I revere the 
strictness of her moral principles, the purity of her in- 
tentions, and the perfect rectitude of her conduct ; I ad- 
mire the vigorous activity of her mind, her unyielding 
fortitude, and her uniform regard for truth. I warmly 



240 MADAME ROLAND. 

sympathize with, her enthusiasm for liberty, her hatred 
of oppression, and her contempt for the insolence of 
rank — But I confess I am sometimes startled by 
the fierceness and boldness of her expressions. I 
would have had her more compassionate toward that 
class of people, whose haughty condescension so well 
deserved her cold contempt. After all, iron-hearted con- 
sistency is a quality difficult to admire in woman. 

I might enlarge upon some other points, which quali- 
fy my respect for Madame Roland ; but I deem it more 
useful to ourselves, as well as more charitable to others, 
to dwell upon virtues to be imitated, rather than upon 
errors to be avoided. The times in which she lived 
were unnatural — theories were corrupt — salutary re- 
straints broken down ■ — religion cast away as an idle 
toy fit only for the superannuated — the whole system 
of things was diseased. — At such a crisis, how could 
perfect examples be expected ? 

I have endeavored to be an impartial biographer both 
to Madame de Stael and Madame Roland. In many 
respects, Madame de Stael reminds me of the highly 
gifted Athenian, — fascinating Pericles by her wit and 
eloquence — discoursing philosophy with Plato — in- 
spired with genius — unable to live without the dange- 
rous excitement of admiration — enjoying triumph- — 
and very vain of her power. 

The latter presents herself to my mind under the im- 
age of a blooming Spartan damsel, — strong, active, and 
fearless — ambitious of sharing difficult and dangerous 
enterprises — fearing death less than she scorned effem- 
inacy — and boldly contending for the prize amid the 
warriors in the gymnasium. 



MADAME ROLAND. 241 



DRAUGHT OF A DEFENCE, 



BY MADAME EOLAND, 

INTENDED TO BE READ TO THE TRIBUNAL.* 
i 

The charge brought against me rests entirely upon 
the pretended fact of my being the accomplice of men 
called conspirators. My intimacy with a few of them 
is of much older date than the political circumstances, in 
consequence of which they are now considered as 
rebels ; and the correspondence we kept up through the 
medium of. our common friends, at the time of their de- 
parture from Paris, was entirely foreign to public af- 
fairs. Properly speaking, I have been engaged in no 
political correspondence whatever, and in that respect I 
might confine myself to a simple denial ; for I certainly 
cannot be called upon to give an account of my particu- 
lar affections. But I have a right to be proud of them, 
as well as of my conduct, nor do I wish to conceal any- 
thing from the public eye. I shall therefore acknowl- 
edge, that, with expressions of regret at my confinement, 
I received an intimation that Duperret had two letters 
for me, whether written by one or by two of my friends, 

* Written at the Conciergerie the night after her examin- 
ation. 

14* 



242 MADAME ROLAND. 

before or after their leaving Paris, I cannot say. Du- 
perret had delivered them into other hands, and thej r 
never came to mine. Another time I received a pres- 
sing invitation to break my chains, and an offer of ser- 
vices, to assist me in effecting my escape, in any way I 
might think proper, and to convey me whithersoever I 
might afterwards wish to go. I was dissuaded from lis- 
tening to such proposals by duty and by honor ; by 
duty, that I might not endanger the safety of those to 
whose care I was confided ; and by honor, because at 
all events I preferred running the risk of an unjust trial, 
to exposing myself to the suspicion of guilt, by a flight 
unworthy of me. When I consented to be taken up on 
the 31st of May, it was not with the intention of after- 
wards making my escape. In that alone consists all 
my correspondence with my fugitive friends. No doubt, 
if all means of communication had nQtbeen cut off, or if 
I had not been prevented by confinement, I should have 
endeavored to learn what was become of them ; for I 
know of no law by which my doing so is forbidden. In 
what age, or in what nation, was it ever considered a 
crime to be faithful to those sentiments of esteem and 
brotherly affection, which bind man to man ? I do not 
pretend to judge of the measures of those who have been 
proscribed : they are unknown to me ; but I will never 
believe in the evil intentions of men, of whose probity, 
civism, and devotion to their country I am thoroughly 
convinced. If they erred, it was unwittingly ; they fall 
without being abased ; and I regard them as unfortu- 
nate, without being liable to blame. I am perfectly 
easy as to their glory, and willingly consent to partici- 
pate in the honor of being oppressed by their enemies. 



MADAME ROLAND. 242 

I know those men, accused of conspiring against their 
country, to have been determined republicans, but hu- 
mane, and persuaded that good laws were necessary to 
procure the republic the good-will of persons who doubt- 
ed whether it could be maintained ; which, it must be 
confessed, is more difficult than to kill them. The his- 
tory of every age proves, that it requires great talents 
to lead men to virtue by wise institutions, while force 
suffices to oppress them by terror, or to annihilate them 
by death. I have heard them assert, that abundance, as 
well as happiness, can only proceed from an equitable, 
protecting, and beneficent government ; and that the 
omnipotence of the bayonet may produce fear, but not 
bread. I have seen them animated by the most lively 
enthusiasm for the good of the people, disdaining to 
flatter them, and resolved rather to fall victims to their 
delusion, than be the means of keeping it up. I confess 
these principles, and this conduct, appeared to me total- 
ly different from the sentiments and proceedings of ty- 
rants, or ambitious men, who seek to please the people 
to effect their subjugation. It inspired me with the 
highest esteem for those generous men : this error, if an 
error it be, will accompany me to the grave, whither I 
shall be proud of following those, whom I was not per- 
mitted to accompany. 

My defence, I will venture to say, is more necessary 
to those, who really wish to come at the truth, than it is 
to myself. Calm and contented in the consciousness of 
having done my duty, I look forward to futurity with 
perfect peace of mind: My serious turn, and studious 
habits, have preserved me alike from the follies of dissi- 
pation, and from the bustle of intrigue. A friend to 



244 MADAME ROLAND. 

liberty, on which reflection had taught me to set a just 
value, I beheld the revolution with delight, persuaded 
it was destined to put an end to the arbitrary power 
I detested, and to the abuses I had so often lamented, 
when reflecting with pity upon the fate of the indigent 
classes of society. I took an interest in the progress of 
the revolution, and spoke with warmth of public affairs : 
but I did not pass the bounds prescribed by my sex. 
Some small talents, a considerable share of philosophy, 
a degree of courage more uncommon, and which did not 
permit me to weaken my husband's energy in dangerous 
times : such perhaps are the qualities, which those who 
know me may have indiscreetly extolled, and which 
may have made me enemies among those to whom I 
am unknown. Roland sometimes employed me as a 
secretary ; and the famous letter to the king, for in- 
stance, is copied entirely in my hand- writing. This 
would be an excellent item to add to my indictment, if 
the Austrians were trying me, and if they should have 
thought fit to extend a minister's responsibility to his 
wife. But Roland long ago manifested his knowledge, 
and his attachment to the great principles of politics : 
the proofs of them exist in his numerous works, publish- 
ed during the last fifteen years. — His learning and his 
probity are all his own ; nor did he stand in need of a 
wife to make him an able minister. Never were confe- 
rences or secret councils held at his house ; his col- 
leagues, whoever they might be, and a few friends and 
acquaintance, met once a week at his table, and there 
conversed, in a public manner, on matters in which 
everybody was concerned. As to the rest, the writings 
of that minister, which breathe throughout a love of or- 



M ABA ME ROLAND. 24e5 

der and of peace, and which lay down in the most forci- 
ble manner the best principles of morality and politics) 
will forever attest his wisdom, as his accounts will prove 
his integrity. / 

To return to the offence imputed to me, I have to ob- 
serve that I never was intimate with Duperret. I saw 
him now and then at the time of Roland's administration ; 
but he never came to our house during the six months 
that my husband was no longer in office. The same re* 
marlf will apply to the other members, our friends, which 
surely does not accord with the plots and conspiracies 
laid to our charge. It is evident by my first letter to 
Duperret, I only wrote to him because I knew not to 
whom else to address myself, and because I imagined 
he would readily consent to oblige me. My correspond 
dence with him could not then be concerted ; it could 
not be the consequence of any previous intimacy, and 
could have only one object in view. It gave me after- 
wards an opportunity of receiving accounts from those 
who had just absented themselves, and with whom I 
was connected by the ties of friendship, independently 
of all political considerations. The latter were totally 
out of the question in the kind of correspondence I kept 
up with them during the early part of their absence, 
No written memorial bears witness against me in that 
respect ; those adduced only leading to a belief that I 
partook of the opinions and sentiments of the persons 
called conspirators. This deduction is well founded : 
I confess it without reserve, and am proud of the confor- 
mity. But I never manifested my opinions in a way 
which can be construed into a crime, or which tended 
to occasion any disturbance, Now, to become an ac* 



246 MADAME ROLAND. 

complice in any plan whatever, it is necessary to give 
advice, or to furnish means of execution. I have done 
neither ; I am not then reprehensible in the eye of the 
law — there is no law to condemn me, nor any fact 
which admits of the application of a law. 

I know that, in revolutions, law, as well as justice, is 
often forgotten ; and the proof of it is, that I am here. 
I owe my trial to nothing but the prejudices, and violent 
animosities, which arise in times of great agitation, and 
which are generally directed against those who have 
been placed in conspicuous situations, or are known to 
possess any energy or spirit. It would have been easy 
for my courage to put me out of the reach of the 
sentence I foresaw ; but I thought it rather became me 
to undergo it ; I thought that I owed the example to 
my country ; I thought that if I were to be condemned, 
it must be right to leave tyranny all the odium of sacri- 
ficing a woman, whose crime is that of possessing some 
small talent, which she never misapplied, a zealous desire 
of the welfare of mankind, and courage enough to ac- 
knowledge her unfortunate friends, and to do homage to 
virtue at the risk of her life. Minds, which have any 
claim to greatness, are capable of divesting themselves 
of selfish considerations ; they feel they belong to the 
whole human race ; and their views are directed to pos- 
terity alone. I am the wife of a virtuous man, exposed 
to persecution ; and I was the friend of men, who have 
been proscribed and immolated by delusion, and the ha- 
tred of jealous mediocrity. It is necessary that I should 
perish in my turn, because it is a rule with tyranny to 
sacrifice those whom it has grievously oppressed, and to 
annihilate the very witnesses of its misdeeds. I have 



MADAME ft LAND. 24^ 

this double claim to death from your hands, and I ex- 
pect it. When innocence walks to the scaffold, at the 
command of error and perversity, every step she takes 
is an advance towards glory. May I be the last victim 
sacrificed to the furious spirit of party ! I shall quit 
with - joy this unfortunate earth, which swallows up the 
friends of virtue, and drinks the blood of the just. 

Truth ! friendship ! my country ! sacred objects, sen* 
timents dear to my heart, accept my last sacrifice. My 
life was devoted to you, and you will render my death 
easy and glorious. 

Just heaven ! enlighten this unfortunate people, fof 

whom I desired liberty Liberty! — It is for 

noble minds, who despise death, and who know how, 
upon occasion, to give it to themselves. It is not for 
weak beings, who enter into a composition with guilt* 
and cover selfishness and cowardice with the name of 
prudence. It is not for corrupt wretches, who rise from 
the bed of debauchery, or from the mire of indigence, to 
feast their eyes on the blood that streams from the scaf- 
fold. It is the portion of a people, who delight in hu« 
manity, practise justice, despise their flatterers, and re* 
spect the truth. While you are not such a people, O 
my fellow-cittzens ! you will talk in vain of liberty i 
instead of liberty, you will have licentiousness, of which 
you will all fall victims in your turns ; you will ask 
for bread ; dead bodies will be given you ; and you 
will at last bow down your necks to the yoke. 

I have neither concealed my sentiments nor my opin- 
ions, I know that a Roman lady was sent to the scaf- 
fold for lamentiiig the death of her son. I know that, in 
times of delusion and party rage, he who dares avow 



248 MADAME ROLAND. 

himself the friend of the condemned, or of the proscri- 
bed, exposes himself to their fate. But I despise death ; 
I never feared anything but guilt, and I will not pur- 
chase life at the expense of a base subterfuge. Woe to 
the times ! woe to the people among whom doing 
homage to disregarded truth can be attended with dan- 
ger, — and happy he, who in such circumstancs is bold 
enough to brave it ! 

It is now your part to see whether it answer your 
purpose to condemn me without proof, upon mere mat- 
ter of opinion, and without the support or justification 
of any law. 



LIST OP WOEKS REFERRED TOe 

Roland's Appeal to Posterity. 

Kotzebue's Travels. 

La Biographie Universelle. 

Critical Review. 

Lady's Museum. 



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